


Scandal

by Smidge



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smidge/pseuds/Smidge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A student/teacher mattex fic where Alex is a new teacher at Matt's school ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the student/teacher mattex fic I have been working on for a while now, it's almost finished but I figure if I post a chapter a week then I have plenty time to get it done :) I got some of my inspiration from 'notes on a scandal' and other bits from you wonderful people that follow me on tumblr and gave me suggestions - I dedicate this to you.
> 
> Thought I'd start posting it today in honour of our beautiful Alex's birthday!
> 
> Enjoy x
> 
> ( Happy Birthday Alex Kingston!x )

It is her first day at a new school. One of the teachers has fallen ill and is no longer able to teach, so Alex has been hired to take her place. The term has already begun. In fact Alex had responded to the advert and interviewed over the Christmas holidays, in time to start in the New Year. She is to teach art; a subject she is very keen on, painting at home in her spare time.

She fights her way through the foreboding corridors as rebellious students crash into her, the walls, the lockers, each other; calling names and starting fights. A morning ritual she will soon become used to. One of the lads who is shoved into her, apologises; which makes a nice change, then causes her to blush as he pauses unexpectedly, his eyes studying her before he is pushed again and refocuses his attention on his attacker.

Eventually she makes it to the staff room and flops into a seat as the Head teacher, Mr Bates, offers her a coffee; which she gratefully accepts.

She is introduced to her first class; a rowdy, eclectic mix of teenagers. The noise they produce is nearly unbearable until Mr Bates bellows over the top of them and then the silence is almost deafening. Alex thanks Mr Bates as he leaves her to it, and writes her name on the board in neat, curly handwriting – ‘Miss Kingston’. Then she waits for the questions to start, promising herself not to feel intimidated.

“Miss?” a boy of about sixteen raises his hand. He is tall and skinny, all angles; in his face as well as his limbs, his hair is mousy brown and his fringe falls across his face, hazel eyes almost hidden. She’s seen him before; recognises him immediately, and for some strange reason she cannot wait to discover his name.

“Yes...sorry, what’s your...?”

“Matt, Miss,” he replies with a smile. It’s a different smile than the one he wore this morning, when he bumped into her and raked his eyes over her.

“Yes Matt,” she gives him the go ahead.

“Are you married Miss?”

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” she begins, a little taken aback by the question.

“But you wrote ‘Miss’, not ‘Mrs’,” he points out, “so you’re not married then?”

“No,” she sighs, resigned to the boy’s insistence, “I’m not.”

“Have you ever been married, Miss?”

“Yes,” she nods and opens her mouth to accept another student’s question, when he continues.

“What happened?”

“It didn’t work out,” she shakes her head, eager to get off the topic.

“Why not?”

“It...It just didn’t,” she stares at him, annoyed by his impertinence, “it doesn’t matter Matthew.” He hangs his head and says nothing more, so she takes a deep breath and nods at the girl in the corner, preparing herself for the next question.

Matt’s hand shoots up again before the girl speaks. “Miss?”

“What is it Matthew?” she huffs and rolls her eyes.

“I’m very sorry, Miss.”

She frowns. “About what?”

“About your marriage, Miss.”

Her eyes soften at that. It may irritate her, the number of times he calls her ‘Miss’, and the ridiculous subject of his questions. But there’s something about the way he apologises, for something he has absolutely no control over, but knows it would have hurt her; he is so sincere, she smiles. “Thank you.” She nods courteously to him before continuing with the lesson.

Matt, she discovers, is quite a bright child; full of promise and quite able to achieve highly if he puts his mind to it. And his _mind_ ; he has a vivid imagination – great for art. He learns techniques quickly and reels out projects almost as swiftly as she gives them the assignments. She wonders fleetingly whether he is really this taken and driven by art or if he is trying to impress her. If it is the former, she is pleased and fascinated. If it is the latter, she is flattered and it is working. She secretly hopes it is both.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me longer to update than I intended - I was ill and then got caught up with work and backstage stuff. I'll try and keep this updated every weekend from now on :)
> 
> Enjoy x

She opens an art club afterschool on a Tuesday, with permission from Mr Bates; who pops his head in from time to time to see how it’s going. Matt, of course, shows up regularly.

“He fancies you, Miss,” Matt pipes up one day as the students filter out of the classroom. There were very few students attending today; many off in detention, or home; packing for the Duke of Edinburgh trip that is leaving in the morning. It’s growing late and the club has ended so everyone left is clearing up and making their way home.

“Excuse me?” she chuckles, embarrassed by his suggestion.

“Mr Bates,” he stage whispers as she passes him, gathering up used paint pallets and dropping them in the industrial sized sink behind him.

“He does _not_ ,” she scoffs, slightly repulsed by the idea.

“He does, Miss,” he nods, “you can tell.”

“And how, pray tell me, can you _tell_?” she runs the taps, turning so her back is against the counter and folding her arms across her chest.

“Just can, Miss,” he speaks over his shoulder. “Like, today,” he reiterates, “he came in to check on you.”

“He came in to see how my club is going...” she attempts to correct him, turning her attention back to the gradually filling sink.

“Yeah, like he did last week, and two weeks before that and...”

“Alright,” she huffs, “but that doesn’t mean...”

“Have you seen the way he checks you out though, Miss?” he interrupts.

“What?” she shakes her head in denial.

“He does,” he steps up beside her and runs his hands under the taps to clean them.

“Oi you,” she dips her hand in and flicks water at him; “you’re getting my water all murky.”

“Sorry Miss,” he smirks, “that wasn’t a euphemism, was it?”

She sighs with exasperation, attempting to hide the smile that wants to burst across her face. “No, darling, it wasn’t.”

“Darling?”

“Shut up,” she giggles, flicking him again.

“Make me,” he laughs.

“I’ll give you detention,” she warns.

“But this is an afterschool club, you can’t give me detention,” he protests.

“Just try me,” she challenges, washing a pallet in the hot water.

“Besides,” he flicks water off his hands, aiming just a little towards her; he doesn’t really want to get into trouble. She gasps and freezes. “I think I’d rather enjoy detention with you.”

“Oh trust me,” she nearly growls, “I’d make your detention like hell.” She pulls the pallet out of the water, shaking it excessively, in Matt’s direction, before placing it in the rack to dry.

“I think it would be heaven,” he smiles and she rolls her eyes. He notices two dirty pallets nearby that she must have missed and throws them into the bowl of water from a distance, causing an almighty splash. Alex shrieks and jumps back, but it’s too late.

“Matthew,” she exclaims, “you got me all wet.”

“Did I now?” he smirks infuriatingly.

“You know what I mean,” she glares, gesturing to herself, “ _look_ at me.”

“I’m not sure you really want me to right now, Miss...” he shakes his head as he looks her over.

“Why not?” she huffs.

“Um, coz you’re wearing a white blouse,” he replies.

“And?”

“And now it’s kind of see-through,” he answers honestly.

“What?” she gasps, glancing down at herself and immediately covering her chest with her arms.

“S’alright Miss,” he assures her, raising his hands in surrender, “I couldn’t see that you’re wearing a creamy white bra with light blue lace trim...I mean...um...” he shrugs, “oops!”

“ _Oops_?” she repeats.

“It’s okay, I have erased the image from my mind,” he assures her.

“Like ever,” she rolls her eyes, unconvinced.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I had actually written this chapter ages ago, before Lady_Cleo cleverly commented on my last chapter - but hey, great minds think alike ;)
> 
> Enjoy x

She is put on ‘playground duty’ one lunch time. She’s not done it before and feels a little intimidated. She sticks close to Mr Bates; no matter how much she loathes to encourage his advances, avoiding eye contact with any of the students and dodging out the way of balls, fists and flying children. Mr Bates doesn’t seem to bat an eyelid.

“Is it always like this?” she asks as three students hurl themselves at each other, almost knocking the pair of them over.

“Yep,” Mr Bates nods, “not much we can do really, not without the possibility of being attacked ourselves; whether it be on purpose or accidental.”

“Right,” she wraps her cardigan around herself.

“We’re just here to pick up the pieces if need be,” he explains.

“Okay.”

“You cold?” he observes her shuddering form, “here, take my jacket.”

“No, no it’s...it’s fine,” she assures him to no avail as he removes his jacket and drapes it around her shoulders.

“There,” he smiles in satisfaction, “better?”

“Much,” she tries to smile back as she nods in thanks.

“You seem to have settled in well,” he enquires.

“Oh, yes,” she gushes, “everyone is so nice and helpful, and the children aren’t all that bad; some of them show great talent actually.”

“Oh I’m glad,” he stops walking, forcing her to stop too, “if you ever need anything though, Alex,” she is uncomfortable with him using her first name, all the teachers call each other by their last names; like the kids do. “Anything at all, just ask, alright? No matter; day or night.”

“Erm, thank you,” she makes the mistake of looking up at him.

“In fact, would you like to go for coffee after school sometime,” he asks. She knew it was coming, Matt had been right, and ever since he mentioned it she couldn’t help but notice the way he stared at her breasts or ran his eyes over her body when he was speaking to her. “We can talk about how you’re getting on and what I can do to help you more and about anything you like really.”

“Oh erm...” Alex looks at the ground, unwilling to see the enthusiastic hope in his eyes.

“How about Friday? Neither of us have any clubs to attend and I’ll have the weekend to get paperwork done.”

“Right...”

“Good,” he beams, “I’ll see you by the front gate after school.”

“Um...okay.”

“Oh, excuse me a moment will you Alex,” he puts a hand on her arm as he spies a proper fight breaking out on the other side of the playground, she shudders at his touch, “don’t wander too far,” he winks and strides away.

She strolls along the edge of the playground until she spies Matt playing a friendly game of football with his mates. She pauses and watches for a while. He’s taken off his jumper and tie, undone the top button of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up, his hair is a mess from constantly having his hands run through it but it still manages to flop into his eyes; she’s surprised he can still see where the ball is. She sighs as she realises she’s found another hidden talent of his, just as he runs down the pitch and scores a goal.

She smiles as his team cheer and he runs around with his shirt over his head in victory. She admires the lines of his stomach and bumps of his ribs, just glimpsing protruding hip bones above the hemline of his trousers before he drops his shirt down and catches her eye. He winks and points at her with both hands, dedicating his goal to her. She gets butterflies in her stomach and chuckles as he pats his teammates on the back, glancing over his shoulder at her once more before recommencing the game.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's late, was out buying a new car with my Mum and I totally forgot.  
> Hope this makes up for it though ;)
> 
> Enjoy x

She dreads coffee with Mr Bates for the rest of the week, avoiding him in the corridors and the canteen wherever possible, but he still checks up on her class; or _her_ as she’s now come to realise.

“You got any plans for the weekend Miss?” Matt asks as he packs up his bag. It is the end of school, she’s just finished her last lesson for the week and Matt is always the slowest to pack up and last to leave; she thinks he does it on purpose, just so he can speak to her for a moment.

“Nothing except this stupid coffee I somehow agreed to,” she mumbles.

“Coffee?” he frowns, “With who?”

“Who do you think?” she laughs depreciatively.

“Not Mr Bates...”

“Yes, Mr Bates.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, sighing as she leans back on her desk, staring at the floor and talking to him across the room, “he just said if I ever needed anything to let him know and then he thought coffee would be a good idea, to talk about how I’m doing and how he can help and...” she lifts her head to him then, “Oh Matt, I really don’t want to go.”

“Then don’t,” he replies, meandering round the tables until he reaches her.

“I can’t just not turn up,” she chuckles, “he’s the head teacher.”

“So?” he shrugs, “When is it?”

“Now,” she looks back down at her feet, tapping her nails against the side of the wooden desk.

“What? _Right_ now?” he asks in astonishment.

“Yep,” she nods, biting her bottom lip, “supposed to meet him by the gates after school.”

He laughs out loud at that.

“He makes me uncomfortable when we’re _in_ school, Matt,” she looks at him pleadingly; although what he can do about it she’s not sure. “What’s he gonna be like when we’re _alone_?”

“You can’t go, Miss,” he drops his bag on her desk and turns to lean against it, mimicking her.

“I can’t very well _not_ go.”

“But, Miss,” he implores her with teenage humour, “he’s called ‘Mr Bates’ for a reason, you can’t be alone with him, especially if he fancies you.”

“And why is that?” she smiles at his attempt at distracting her, if only for a minute.

“‘Mr Bates’,” he says slowly, “he’s not married so technically he’s ‘ _Master_ Bates’.”

“Right...?” she says, not quite understanding where this was going.

“Say it in a northern accent, Miss.”

He watches her as she frowns, thinking over the name in her head, then laughs as she gasps in shock, eyes wide and attempting to hide her giggles.

“You can’t be saying things like that about your teacher,” she swats at him, “and he’s the _head_.”

“That just makes it even funnier, Miss,” he grins.

“Oh god,” she shakes her head as she laughs.

“People say lots of things about lots of teachers, Miss,” he confesses as his laughter subsides, “you don’t want to know what people say about you...”

“What do they say?” she suddenly sobers.

“Nah, Miss,” he shakes his head, “It would make your head spin.”

“Tell me, Matt,” she blinks up at him.

“Well,” he hedges, “I’m not sure...”

“Darling, just tell me,” she says, her voice soft and velvety, ducking her head to look in his eyes.

He glances up and smiles weakly, turning so that he’s almost facing her, one arm leaning against the desk beside her. “They just say that you’re hot, Miss,” he looks away and scuffs his feet.

“ _Hot_?” she repeats in surprise.

“Yeah,” he looks up at her again, “sexy, you know...fuckable.”

“Yes, alright Matt, I get the picture,” she looks away, her face flushing.

“I don’t though,” he confesses.

“You don’t?” her eyes shoot up to meet his again.

“No,” he says earnestly.

“You don’t think I’m... _god_ ,” she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she repeats his earlier word, “ _fuckable_?”

“Oh, well, yes,” he shies away, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, “of course I _think_ that, but...” he sighs, “I don’t _say_ it.”

“Well, er...thank you.”

“There’s one thing I _will_ say though...” he starts nervously.

“And what’s that?”

He brings his head up, gazing into her deep green-blue eyes as he leans closer to her. “I think you’re beautiful, Miss.”

Her breath catches in her throat. Whenever he talks to her he seems so sincere, it leaves her breathless and wanting. She’s his teacher though; she shouldn’t be feeling this way about a student. She remains silent, unable to speak, her breathing getting shallower as butterflies take flight in her stomach.

He takes her silence as some form of permission, stepping in front of her and leaning his hands on the desk behind and either side of her, bending his head ever so slowly; giving her every opportunity to stop him or to step away – but she doesn’t.

His lips brush gently over hers once, twice; nudging his nose with hers and smiling. She can’t help but smile back and he crushes his mouth to hers desperately. She whimpers and her hands immediately find their way to his bony hips, hooking her fingers through his belt loops and yanking him closer, between her legs.

He groans and licks along her bottom lip until she grants him access, before sweeping his tongue through her mouth hungrily. She sighs as their tongues meet and stroke against each other and she pulls the hem of his shirt out of his trousers in order to get her hands underneath and touch his skin. His back is warm and soft against her palms and his hands venture up to her waist.

His fingers caress her skin through the thin material of her blouse before skimming up her sides and brushing against her breasts. She gasps and breaks the kiss, pulling back and pushing him away; quickly coming to her senses.

“No, darling, we can’t,” she pants.

“I know,” he shakes his head forlornly, “I’m sorry, Miss, I didn’t mean to...”

“No, no,” she shakes her head, loose curls flying around her face, “don’t be.” She cups his face in her hands, “ _I’m_ sorry,” she says, “in a different life; different circumstances...”

“Yeah,” he nods, his hands coming up to rest over hers.

“You’re wonderful, Matt,” she looks him deep in the eye, “don’t ever let anyone make you think any different.”

“Thanks, Miss.”

She leans her forehead against his, squeezing her eyes shut as she thinks. He really is wonderful, and if he was older or she was younger, and she wasn’t his teacher, or he her pupil, maybe they could be something; but circumstances being what they are, nothing can happen. She lifts her head and pulls him close, pecking him briefly on the lips before releasing him.

“You’d better go, darling,” she says regretfully, “I have to have coffee with Mr Bates.”

“You’re not gonna say anything are you, Miss?” he shoulders his bag, looking at her with concern.

“God no!” she shakes her head and chuckles, “Are you mad? I’d probably get fired.”

“I wouldn’t want that.”

He takes her hand in his and brushes his lips delicately across her knuckles. “Saw that in a movie once,” he beams, “always wanted to do it.”

She smiles fondly at him. “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Have a good weekend, Miss.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late, I had an audition for drama school on Saturday (and I got a recall!!) and my mind was totally elsewhere.
> 
> Also, sorry for leaving you (and Alex) with creepy Mr Bates...  
> I promise next week's chapter will make up for it! ;)
> 
> Enjoy x

Coffee is just as dreadful as she had expected.

Her lips are still tingling slightly from Matt’s kiss as she emerges from the dark shop on the corner an hour later, and she runs her fingers over them softly, momentarily lost in thought, before Mr Bates reappears and shatters her daydream.

He had been standing there, leaning nonchalantly against the gate waiting expectantly for her to arrive; ignoring all the kids that walked past and made faces or called him names. She’d paused as soon as she saw him, frozen to the spot in terror, unable to move towards him or run in the opposite direction.

Then he’d caught her eye and beamed, shifting himself from the gate and walking over to greet her. So she’d forced herself to smile back and her feet eventually managed to make their way over to him.

His hand had landed on her lower back as they walked and he’d guided her to his favourite corner cafe before pulling out a chair for her and ordering her a coffee he thought she’d like. He’d got it wrong but she pretended she liked it, sipping from it occasionally until it went cold. She’d declined when he offered to get her another.

They didn’t talk about anything remotely interesting, sticking to topics centred round school and jobs and him. Although he did ask a few, unnecessary questions, making her squirm in her seat uncomfortably until she could come up with a suitable answer to satisfy his curiosity as well as not giving too much away.

“So,” he says cheerily, flinging his arm around her shoulders once he’s paid, “where to now?”

She tries to shrug him off, to no avail, and smiles weakly at him. “This has been lovely,” she lies, “and thank you for your help and understanding, it is daunting sometimes coming into a new school; where no one knows you and you don’t know them...”

“Which is why I asked you out,” he interrupts boldly and her eyes widen.

“Asked me out?”

“And here I am asking you again,” he bops her on the nose and she startles, “will you come to dinner with me tonight?”

“Er...I, um...” she stutters, lost for words. She thought he had intended their coffee to be a friendly meeting of colleagues so she could talk to him about any difficulties she was having, but apparently he intended it as a date and was just asking her on another. She has to say no before he takes her silence as affirmative.

“Come on, Alex,” he pulls her closer to him, “it’s not like either of us have got someone to go home to...” her mouth drops open in surprise at that comment, “what’s the point of us spending the night alone when we could be together?”

It’s a rhetorical question, she knows it is, but she wants so badly to answer it. Instead she settles with a lame excuse; just to get him off her back for tonight, she can deal with the consequences on Monday when they’re back at school. “I can’t,” she feigns sorrow, “I’m sorry, my Dad’s coming over for the weekend and I promised him we’d go out tonight...”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “no worries, wouldn’t want to get in the way of a girl and her daddy.”

She smiles, “Thank you for understanding.”

“Not at all,” he drops his arm from her shoulder and she almost forgets to repress her sigh of relief. “Another night then,” he offers. “Tell me, Alex, are you very much a ‘Daddy’s girl’?”

“What?” she thought the awkward questions that she didn’t want him to know the answers to were over, but obviously not. “Um, yes I suppose, a bit.”

“You don’t sound very sure,” he frowns at her.

She starts walking away from him, “Actually, he’ll be home any minute and doesn’t have a key.” She turns away from him and picks up her pace, hoping to god he doesn’t see straight through her lies; desperate to get away from his prying questions and over-friendly hands. “See you next week,” she calls out, although she sincerely hopes she doesn’t.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore this chapter - not sure what it is about it specifically or whether it's just the entire piece, but there's something there that I haven't been able to find again in later chapters.
> 
> And hey, I've managed to bring it back to Saturday! (I'll try and keep it there from now on)
> 
> Enjoy x

She dismisses her class, last thing on Monday afternoon, secretly eager to catch Matt on the way out; but Mr Bates appears at the door and she groans internally.

Matt glances at her as soon as he spots him and catches the plea in her eyes, deciding to prolong the activity of washing his hands of paint and packing up his bag.

 “Alex,” Mr Bates enters the room, “are you alright? I was just coming to check up on you...your class, and see if you wanted to go out this week to talk things over?” He glances suspiciously at Matt as he awaits her answer.

Strangely, in front of Matt, she doesn’t stutter and hesitate when talking to Mr Bates. “No, no, I’m fine, thank you,” she assures him, “If I need you for anything I know where to find you.” She smiles.

“Oh, right, okay,” he nods and backs out of the room slowly, “well, don’t be a stranger.” He gives Matt another look before he walks out of sight.

Alex let’s out the breath she was holding and relaxes against the desk behind her. She looks up at Matt as he studies a painting on the far wall. She shakes her head fondly, ridding herself of dangerous thoughts of him bending her over the desk or taking her against the blackboard, before she rises and saunters over to him.

“What do you think?” she asks him as they gaze at the painting together. It’s a portrait of a young girl with long, brown, curly hair wearing a pretty blue dress with darker blue butterflies embroidered into it, dancing in a field of brightly coloured, wild flowers.

“I think it’s beautiful,” he states in awe.

‘Like you do me...’ she thinks to herself.

“Not as beautiful as you though,” he smiles and glances at her as if he’s read her mind.

“What do you like about it?” she tries to ignore his last remark, but the butterflies take wing in her stomach again.

“What do I _not_ like about it?” he replies. “It’s so colourful and lively and really captures the spirit of the little girl, I think,” he pauses, “her hair is brilliant. It actually looks real; perfect curls being blown about in the breeze. Whoever painted this is rapidly becoming my favourite artist.”

She can’t help the beam that spreads across her face at his words. “Thank you, darling.” She leans up on her tiptoes and drops a kiss to his cheek, “you are too kind,” before wandering off around the classroom to collect up pallets and paint brushes.

She hides her smirk as he whips around to face her in shock. “You mean...” she glances up at him to see his eyes wide in disbelief, and her face starts to ache with smiling. “That’s one of _yours_?”

“Yes,” she replies modestly, dropping her gaze and concentrating on stacking paint pallets.

“Miss, it’s...it’s...” he waves his arms around as he tries to find the right words.

“You’ve already told me what you think of it, darling, and I thanked you,” she answers coolly, “and please stop calling me ‘Miss’; my name is ‘Alex’.”

“ _Alex_ ,” he repeats the name like it’s the most precious word in the universe and she feels the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. The room falls quiet for a few minutes while she tidies and he returns his attention to her painting.

“Do you know that girl?” he suddenly asks. “Or is she just someone you spotted, or a figment of your imagination? She really is pretty. Looks a bit like you actually...” he cocks his head to one side as he contemplates the figure more closely.

“She’s my daughter,” Alex replies warmly, now standing almost directly behind him.

He jumps a little and she suppresses a giggle.

“You have a daughter?”

“Mmmhmm,” she nods with a smile, moving back up towards her desk to start clearing her papers away.

“You are just full of surprises today,” he beams, bouncing across the room to follow her. “How old is she? – If you don’t mind me asking...”

“No, no I don’t mind _you_ asking,” she smiles, “do you mean _now_? Or in the painting?”

“Both?”

“She was five when I started it,” she glances at the painting again, “but she’s almost eight now.”

“Oh that’s a fun age,” he enthuses, “I remember being eight.”

She chuckles, sighing at another reminder of their age difference.

“So where is she now? I mean...when you’re at school, teaching?”

“With her father,” she replies matter-of-factly.

“Oh?” she appears to have surprised him again. “I thought you said you weren’t married?”

“I’m not,” she tucks a wad of papers into a draw and closes it before turning to him and giving him her full attention. She’s not sure why she’s telling him all this, but it feels nice to be able to talk to someone and he seems so eager to listen. “She lives with her father,” she sighs heavily not breaking eye contact with him, “in America.”

“America?” he gasps, covering his mouth and she watches something change in his eyes; they become soft and almost sad, the warm, welcoming hazel colour fading slightly.

“America,” she repeats, turning back to her desk, “LA to be exact.”

“Oh, Miss ... _Alex_ ,” he corrects himself and she shivers as he says her name with such sympathy, “I’m so sorry.”

Again he is apologising for something he has absolutely no control over or any involvement in. Why does he have to do that? It just makes her want him all the more.

“It’s fine,” she shakes her head and waves dismissively.

“It’s _not_ ,” his voice has a slight edge to it and she stiffens as he places his hand on her shoulder.

He means it in comfort, but it brings back bad memories from the end of her marriage. Her ex-husband would never hit her daughter, she knows that for certain; he loves her too much, he needs her, like the air he breathes – so does she, but she rarely gets to see her since the divorce. She’s glad she went through with it though. It took a lot of persuasion from her sister and friends, but he was as angry and frustrated as her that they couldn’t have another child or adopt successfully, and unfortunately, he started taking it out on her. He didn’t drink, he wasn’t a danger to himself or his daughter, and Alex hid it for a long time; pretending everything was fine at home and they were a happy little family, when really, they didn’t even sleep in the same room as each other anymore; except when his frustration took on another form, and even then, he was no longer gentle with her.

Yet she was the only victim of his abuse and as she had never told anybody how long it had actually been going on for, the courts granted him custody of their child and gave her only visiting rights; Alex would travel to America to be with her over the summer holidays, and Salome would come to England over Christmas. That’s all they ever got to see of each other.

She suddenly feels overwhelmed and tears begin to sting in her eyes and threaten to spill. Many a night she has cried herself to sleep thinking about Salome and dreaming of how their lives should be. But she’s never let anyone else see her pain; until now. She can’t help it, talking about her daughter this way always brings back memories; good and bad, lost time spent away from each other when they should never be apart.

She tries to gulp back her emotions, blink her eyes of the tears, but he strokes his hand down her arm soothingly and she crumbles.

“Hey, hey,” he turns her and pulls her into his arms, sheltering her from the world; she sobs, melting into him; curling her dainty fingers into his shirt and burying her face in his chest, tucking her head under his chin as she seeks comfort. “You’re alright,” he rubs his hands peacefully across her back and drops a kiss into her hair, “everything is going to be just fine.”

He holds her close for a few minutes as she cries before she gathers her emotions and disentangles herself from his calming embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, fiddling with his tie and avoiding eye contact.

He hooks a gentle finger under her chin and lifts her face to his as she sniffs, before cupping her cheeks and wiping the tears away with a soft stroke of his thumb. “Don’t apologise,” he says delicately, “I’m sorry if I upset you...”

“No, darling, you didn’t upset me,” she shakes her head vehemently, moving her hand up to stroke tenderly along his jaw. “I-I ... just, thinking about her, how little I see of her; it makes me sad sometimes...and I’m sorry you had to witness that...”

“Stop apologising,” he smiles warmly, “I’m here if you ever want to talk or just need a simple hug to make things feel better,” he tucks a stray curl behind her ear and she offers him a watery smile.

“Thank you, Matt.”

“Not at all,” he takes a deep breath and she steps away, finding a tissue on her desk and drying her eyes and the tear stains from her face. “I should really get to practice,” he gestures over his shoulder, “coach will be mad if I’m late.”

“Oh, no ... you should - you should go, darling,” she nods and smiles genuinely, dismissing him as she throws the scrunched tissue into the bin under her desk.

“Are you going to be alright?” He asks in concern, stepping closer to her once more and resting his hand on her shoulder; this time she welcomes it and doesn’t flinch.

“I’ll be fine,” she assures him, “nothing a nice warm cup of tea, curled up all cosily on my couch can’t remedy.”

“That sounds divine,” he smiles.

“I’m sorry about my outburst, Matt,” she drops her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” his hand slides up her neck to cradle her jaw and she leans into the touch a little, “honestly, if you decide to come to me every time you feel like crying, you’ll never hear me complain.”

She giggles and his heart glows.

“See you tomorrow, Alex,” his thumb barely brushes over her bottom lip before he bends his head and places a chaste kiss there; just enough pressure to set off a spark deep inside her, before he is gone from her grasp.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short but it's needed :)
> 
> Enjoy x

“ _Shit_!” Alex swears aloud as she places her tea cup on the coffee table in front of her.

She had gone straight home as soon as Matt left, not allowing herself to be tempted to follow him and watch him at football practice. She’d filled her kettle with water and let it boil while she found her familiar Yorkshire Gold teabags and made herself a cup of tea; breathing in the warm, welcoming vapours that remind her of home.

She’d curled up on her sofa and flicked through the channels until she’d found a soppy romantic movie and pulled the blanket over her as she drank her tea.

But thoughts of Matt refused to leave her mind.

“This is so _fucked up_!” She swears again as she stands, beginning to pace the room.

Here she is with two men showering her with attention; one of them barely even a man yet, _and_ yet, _he’s_ the one she finds herself attracted to.

“Oh, it’s so wrong,” she shakes her head with a frown. She should be pursuing men like Mr Bates; sensible, knowledgeable, experienced, and most importantly more her age. Matt is so young, he’s still learning; he’s likely still learning in the ‘relationship’ department too, or even completely inexperienced. She should _not_ be thinking about him like this; especially as he’s so young. But why has he bewitched her mind this way?

“He’s just a silly little virgin and you have the urge to teach him _everything_ you know,” she chastises herself, pulling at her hair in frustration.

“But he’s so sincere...” she halts. He may be young but he has lived; or at least he acts like he has. His eyes hold an old, faraway look inside them when he talks to her. It’s like he’s an old soul inside a young body and she cannot wrap her mind around it. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to him; like a moth to the flame.

“To the _flame_ , Alex,” she tries to convince herself that this is a bad idea; that it can only end in tears and heartache, and they may have more than just their own hearts and lives on the line. She can’t do it. She shouldn’t do it. She’ll call him behind after class tomorrow and tell him so.

Except she doesn’t have a class with him the next day, or the day after that; he only takes Art on Monday and Fridays. And he doesn’t turn up to her club either, which she finds strange. And on Friday he seems to leave as fast as he can. The following Monday he has football practice so she doesn’t even look up when he leaves.

This continues for the next two weeks.

She knows she shouldn’t be affected by his behaviour, he’s just one of her students and she’s one of his teachers; that’s all they are to each other. Her lips tingle as she sips at another cup of tea and remind her of their kiss; or kiss _es_ , she thinks, the second one, no matter how brief, had lit her up from inside just as much as the first one.

She groans as she drains her cup, dropping it into the sink before heading up to bed. She gives in, digging out her trusty rabbit; that hasn’t been used in a long time, fitting it with new batteries and pleasuring herself with the image of Matt pressing her into her desk before falling into a restless sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, a nice long chapter for you... in comparison ;)
> 
> Enjoy x

She arrives at her Tuesday Art Club afterschool with no expectations. Who is she kidding? If he doesn’t turn up, yet again, she will be bitterly disappointed. Perhaps he has come to the same conclusion as her; that they can’t do this, whatever _this_ is, and now he’s avoiding her rather than telling her as he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. Well, actually, she thinks this hurts more than telling her straight would.

She has just finished explaining the aim of this session to the students who have chosen to attend and they are all setting about finding the equipment they need, when Matt stumbles through the door.

“Sorry I’m late, Miss,” he mumbles as he finds his seat.

She tries to ignore him; pretend she hasn’t seen him come in, as if she doesn’t care whether he is here or not. But the butterflies take wing in her stomach every time she thinks of him, let alone when she sees him and she can’t help but smile at his presence.

She makes her way around the class, checking everyone has found what they need and have ideas to begin their work with. She takes her time, making sure not to look up at Matt at any moment; even when he raises his hand for her attention, instead waiting him out and coming to him only once she has seen to everyone else.

“Nice to see you here again,” she says, but she doesn’t mean for it to come out quite so harshly.

“Er, yes...I’m sorry, Miss,” he hangs his head as he replies.

He’s about to elaborate when she cuts him off.

“We are using different art forms today; painting, sketching, anything; using any form you like,” she pauses and he nods mutely, “to portray something you love. Either something you love doing, somewhere you love going or even some _one_ you love; like your family or friends.”

“Okay,” he offers her a weary smile and she nods.

“Come find me if you need any help,” she turns on the spot and walks off to find someone in need of her assistance.

“Miss?” he calls out to her.

“Mmm?” She turns back to him.

“I’m sorry!”

She nods her acknowledgement and wanders off.

She starts packing things away as soon as the first students begin to leave, unwilling to watch him walk out of her classroom again.

“I really am sorry, Alex,” he places a hand on her lower back as he approaches her from behind at the sinks.

She sucks in a sharp breath. “What for?” She tries to keep her voice light and nonchalant.

“For missing so many art club sessions,” he replies sincerely, “and for leaving as soon as the bell rings from class...”

“It doesn’t matter Matthew...”

“It does, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“You didn’t...”

“I obviously _did_ ,” he remarks, “Did you really miss me that much?”

She spins around then, so she’s looking directly at him. “No,” she breathes as she says what she needs to, despite her heart, “I didn’t miss you. I barely even noticed you weren’t here.” She shakes her head and turns back to the sink to wash and stack paint pallets.

“That’s a lie,” his voice rises and she stiffens. “Alex, look at me, I know you missed me...I have reasons for leaving though.”

“What reasons,” she bites out.

“See, you _did_ miss me.”

“What _reasons_?”

“Look at me and I’ll tell you...”

“I can’t,” her voice is tiny and she drops the pallet she was holding, leaning her weight on the edge of the sink.

“Why not?”

“I can’t _look_ at you.”

“Please, Alex,” he brushes her curls away from the side of her face so he can see her better; she’s biting her lip and her eyes look sad. “Talk to me?”

“About what?”

“Just...” he huffs out an exasperated breath, “I was auditioning.”

“What?”

“I was _auditioning_ ,” he repeats and she finally turns to him.

“For what?” she asks in surprise.

“The school musical,” he smiles.

“Oh!”

“It’s ‘West Side Story’ and it’s going to be amazing!” He enthuses. “You will come and see it, won’t you Alex?”

“That depends whether it’s any good. Are you in it? Did you pass the audition?”

“You could say that,” he replies mysteriously. He chuckles at her furrowed brow and cocked head. “I’m playing ‘Tony’.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” her hands fly to her mouth, “Well done, you! That’s incredible!” she shakes her head in disbelief, “Oh, I am so proud of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, of course, darling,” she throws her arms around him in a hug; she knows she shouldn’t, one, because she is his teacher and shouldn’t be this close to him anyway, and two, because being this close to him is not good for her plan.

“So, you’ll come and see it?” he asks hesitantly as he pulls back.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

He beams. “We rehearse on Friday’s; that’s why I’ve been leaving so quickly and not talking to you. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising, darling, this is wonderful news and I honestly don’t care that you’ve been racing out of class if it’s because you got the lead part in the school musical.”

“Alex?” he pauses for a moment while he searches her eyes. “Can I show you what I worked on today?”

“Oh, of course...” she nods hesitantly.

“It’s not finished yet, and I’ll probably want to do it again; to perfect it...”

“Alright.”

“Here...” he picks up his painting and spreads it across her desk for them to see.

“Oh, Matt it’s lovely,” she gushes over the portrait before she really takes in who it is.

“I decided to go for some _one_ I love,” he explains, watching her to gauge her reactions.

“So... family? Or a friend? Or...”

“A friend...I suppose...”

“I love what you’ve done with her eyes; they’re gorgeous,” she points out. Most of the painting is currently only faint sketched lines, but he has painted the shape of her face and features, with detail in her eyes; a blue-green and stormy like the sea; he’s tried to make it look like you can see all the stars and galaxies in them.

“Well, she does have gorgeous eyes,” he agrees; “they’re one of my favourite things about her.”

“Who is it?”

He stares at her in astonishment.

“You really don’t know?”

“I-I...um,” she looks at the painting from further away and notes the sketching as well as the paintwork. Her fingers stroke delicately across the woman’s jaw and over her curly hair and she gasps as she retracts her hand. “It’s _me_ ,” she whispers.

“Yes,” he steps in behind her and wraps his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder as he gazes at the eyes in the painting.

“You really like my eyes that much?” her hands come to rest over his.

“Hmmm...I’m sure I do,” he furrows his brow, “maybe I should double check.”

He turns her in his arms and she moves willingly, looping her fingers through his belt loops at his hips and looking straight into his deep, hazel eyes. He smiles and doesn’t look away, lifting his hands to tenderly cup her jaw and she closes her eyes as he gently brushes his thumbs over her eyelids.

“Beautiful,” he breathes and her eyes flutter open again to see his dart to her mouth and back. She can’t help it; her mind screams no, but her heart pulls her to him like a magnet and their lips meet in a soft kiss. His hands wrap around her back and hold her to him even closer and she rises on her toes, curling her fingers in his hair.

She hums at the contact and Matt swipes his tongue questioningly over her lips, to which she answers happily; opening them to him and allowing his tongue to explore her mouth. A whimper escapes her as their tongues meet in the middle and stroke along each other before dancing together, and he grasps her even tighter; as if they can become one person if they are close enough to each other, his hand sliding into her luscious curls as the other snakes around her waist.

Suddenly a door on the outside of the building slams shut and her stomach lurches as she realises Mr Bates hasn’t checked up on her yet this week. She tears away from Matt and stares at him in horror.

“ _Shit_ , Matt,” she hurriedly wipes the smudged lipstick from his mouth and attempts to reapply hers with shaky hands. Matt just stands there, slightly bewildered, until Mr Bates knocks on the door and steps inside without invitation.

Matt rolls up his painting before Mr Bates has a chance to see it and nods toward Alex in thanks. “I’ll see you Friday then, Miss.”

“Yes, Matthew, see you in class on Friday,” she replies as professionally as she can.

“Everything alright?” Mr Bates asks curiously, keeping his eyes on Matt until he has left the classroom.

“Fine!” Alex replies breezily, heading back to the sink to finish washing up.

“What was Mr Smith doing in your classroom so late?”

She prays her face doesn’t flush and give her away, stubbornly trying to push all thoughts of the past twenty minutes from her head. “We just had art club...”

“I know, but that finished at least a quarter of an hour ago,” he frowns as he approaches her.

“We overran,” she chuckles falsely, “I completely lost track of the time.”

“But he was the only one left in here...”

“Yes, he wanted to ask me something about his painting.”

“Alex?” he broaches his next subject with care, “Be careful.”

“What do you mean?” her heart begins to pound in her chest.

He steps up behind her and places his hand on her lower back, just like Matt had before; but with Matt she had welcomed it, enjoyed the feel of his large warm palm spread across her back, but Mr Bates’ touch seems cold in comparison.

“You’re an attractive woman, Alex.”

She cringes.

“If I’ve taken a fancy to you, it’s more than likely some of these boys have too,” he explains, “I don’t want you getting into a situation with any of them that you can’t get your way out of unscathed.”

“I’m a big girl, I’m sure I can warn off any unwanted advances...”

“I’m sure you can,” he presses closer to her, his hands on her hips from behind as he whispers in her ear; causing an unwelcome shiver to run down her spine. “Are you cold again?”

“No, no... I’m fine...”

“Perhaps I can warm you up,” he offers, ignoring her last statement. He wraps his arms around her waist and presses the length of his body against her back, pushing her into the counter and the sink.

She squeezes her eyes closed and prays he’ll step away of his own accord. But they fly open again as his hands travel; one heading south and running up and down the side and front of her thigh and the other gradually making its way northwards until he brushes against a breast.

“Mr Bates!” she shouts in outrage and turns, splashing water over him and batting his hands away.

“What?” he feigns innocence but she can see right through him. “I was only trying to make you warm...”

“I’m not _cold_ ,” she insists, keeping her arms outstretched so that he can’t come any closer.

“You shivered...”

“Because you were touching me...”

“Ah, so it was a good shiver,” he winks, “If you like my touch so much, why did you push me away?”

She stares at him in horrified awe. He just doesn’t get it does he? “Because I _don’t_ like you touching me; I shivered in fear, in revulsion. I’m sorry Mr Bates, you and I could be good friends but I don’t think of you in _that_ sense and I never will.”

“Oh...”

“I don’t want to hurt you but I can’t carry on like this,” she sighs, “please understand.”

“I do.”

She hesitates, unsure what else to say. He looks like a wounded puppy and she feels kind of bad, but good at the same time; perhaps she has finally broken free of his unwanted advances. She can seek Matt out and not be worried that he’s jealous of her and Mr Bates...wait... _what_? Why would he be jealous? They’re not together? She _can’t_ seek Matt out because he’s too young and he’s her student and _what the hell Alex_?!?

“I-I think I should go,” Mr Bates pulls her out of her reverie. “I have to ... er ...do some ... _thing_...”

“Right,” Alex nods and glances away.

“Right.” He repeats and leaves the room at a bit of a run.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short but it's the quality that counts, not the quantity - right?
> 
> Enjoy x

Matt arrives at his history class on Thursday a little earlier than everyone else. He has just been rehearsing over lunch and they finished ahead of schedule. The room is open so he wanders in and takes a seat at the back of the class, slowly getting his things out before checking his phone.

Alex thought she had a break after lunch today, but Mr Bates corners her in the corridor and guilts her into covering Mrs Johnson’s history class as she has a doctor’s appointment. She finds the room already open and sighs as she enters, walking in with her eyes downcast before she spreads her things out across the desk and starts writing her name in the corner of the black board.

Matt looks up as soon as the first person enters the room; still thinking it is rather early for class to start, but becomes momentarily speechless when he discovers it’s not his usual teacher, Mrs Johnson, but Alex... _Miss Kingston_.

“Miss?” he finally finds his voice and she spins in shock.

“ _Matt_?”

He chuckles.

“You take history?”

“I do!”

“Oh!”

They stare at each other for long seconds, Alex gradually turning more, to face him fully, and lowering her pen from the board while Matt slowly gets to his feet.

“Matt...” she breathes and he snaps, jumping over his chair, marching up the length of the classroom and pressing her back into the board as his mouth finds hers.

She makes a startled sound and freezes before her pen drops to the floor and her fingers thread through his hair, body moulding perfectly against his and she feels him harden against her thigh as he sandwiches her between his gorgeous body and the hard blackboard.

She moans obscenely as their tongues meet and twist around each other. His hands grip her hips possessively and she hooks a leg around his ankle, bringing him to stand between her legs.

Her body heats up rapidly; she can feel it begin in her toes, igniting her blood and travelling up under her skin to her ears. Face flushed, she pulls away; gasping for air and Matt descends to her neck; kissing, nipping and licking along her pulse point, up behind her ear and down to her collar bone.

“Matt,” she wriggles against him and bites her lip.

“Ungh, _Alex_ ,” he groans as she presses back against him, rolling her hips and tugging at his hair.

“Matt, stop,” she pants, “we can’t. Not here; the rest of your class are about to walk in.”

He pulls away with a growl and her heart flutters as she notes the darkness and lust in his eyes; most likely matching hers. He steps away, never breaking eye contact, and she straightens his tie before smoothing down her blouse. She drops her eyes and the spell is broken. He nods and wanders back to his desk as she leans against hers for support; both trying to get their breathing under control.

The lesson is pretty uneventful; she hands out worksheets and sits at the desk - there if anyone needs her help - but nobody does.

They keep glancing at each other throughout the lesson; often at the same time, and they can’t help but smile and look away shyly. Alex hopes no one else notices; too busy doing their work. She wishes they were alone in the room and she could sit in his lap and kiss him until the bell rings to signal the end of school. Matt squirms in his seat, trying hard to concentrate on his work and not think about what he would have done to her next if the class weren’t about to walk in. He doesn’t last long though, his mind always wandering; not helped by the uncomfortable bulge now seated in his trousers.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating this - I had my recall audition for drama school last weekend and got distracted (I also got offered a place - yay! - so will likely be spending the next 2 years studying again!). I hope this chapter makes up for it...
> 
> Enjoy x

“What is going on between you and that boy?” Mr Bates asks in an accusative manner as he enters her class the following Friday. It is the end of school and Matt has just had Art with Miss Kingston and is, as usual, slowly packing up to leave. Most of the students in drama can’t make it to rehearsal tonight, so it has been cancelled; he has time to linger.

“What do you mean?” Alex sighs as she tidies her desk.

“Every time I see you, he is here; he’s always around you Alex, I just...” he huffs.

“Are you trying to _imply_ something Mr Bates?” She rounds on him.

He stares at her, contemplative for a moment. “No,” he resigns, dropping his eyes.

“Good!” She returns to clearing her desk.

“Have a good weekend,” he finally leaves her classroom.

“And you.”

Matt gathers his things and heads toward the door. Mr Bates has seen him in there and is acting strange.  He should probably leave as soon as he can so as not to cause more suspicion.

“I’d better go.”

“Oh, er...yes, I suppose you had,” she replies, sounding disappointed.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks warily, stepping closer to her.

“No,” her voice is tiny and he barely hears it, but she doesn’t look up at him.

“Why not?” he continues.

She bites her bottom lip, flicking her eyes up to meet his and he drops his bag to the floor again, striding up to her and lifting her face in his hands before planting his mouth firmly over hers. She whimpers and buries her hands in his floppy mop of hair.

He tears away before long, growling in frustration. “We can’t _do_ this,” he says, his hands still cupping her face, “you said so. So what are we doing _now_?”

“I’m so sorry, Matt,” she shakes her head and closes her eyes against tears, “I don’t want to lead you on, this _can’t_ happen; you’re right, but I just...” she pulls his hands from her face and holds them in her trembling ones, “I just need comforting right now and you seem to be able to give me that so easily. I know it’s wrong. I don’t want to hurt you or confuse you, but I like you, Matt, you make me smile – even when you don’t mean to.”

“So what was that between you and Mr Bates?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head, “but, I didn’t mean what I told him Matt, you – you make me stronger; I can’t stand up to him like that when we’re alone together, I feel tiny and insignificant and helpless, and for some reason, when you’re around, I don’t...”

He pulls her into a kiss again, pressing his body against hers at every point.

“We’re going to get into so much trouble if anyone finds out,” he says, his voice low and hoarse, “especially you.”

“I know, darling,” she fondly strokes his fringe from his forehead, “that’s why we can’t do this...”

“Oh,” he almost chuckles, “we’re doing this.”

“What?” she gasps.

“We’re already doing it, Alex,” he reasons, “there’s no going back now, only, we’ve got to be careful.”

“Careful?” she repeats him, confused as to how they have got to this point; but, unlike with Mr Bates, she is happy to be confused and oblivious and apparently agreeing to things she didn’t even know she’d been asked.

“Yes,” he nods, detangling himself from her embrace, “no more kissing in classrooms.”

“Oh...”

“And you can’t go giving me such high grades ‘cause you fancy me, Alex, that’s not fair on the other students...”

“Oh honey, I’m not giving you good grades ‘cause I fancy you,” she purrs, “I’d never be so unprofessional.”

“Then why do you keep giving me ‘A’s for my art projects?” he furrows his brow.

“Because you are just _that_ good.”

“Really?” his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and delight.

“Yes, darling,” she giggles, “you’re brilliant.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do,” she pulls him into a hug. “Bless, you are adorable when you’re excited.”

He promptly turns her giggles into moans as he kisses her again, leaning her back against the desk.

“‘Adorable’ and ‘excited’ should not be used in the same sentence, Alex,” he murmurs between kisses, his hands roaming her back and shoulders, fingers skating up and down her neck and cupping her jaw. “And art is not the _only_ subject I’m ‘just _that_ good’ at,” he pulls back and winks before sliding his hands to her waist and lifting her onto the desk.

She squeaks in surprise, stomach flipping with anticipation at his last statement. “Matt,” she warns, “this is my desk...”

“Exactly!”

“But, even _you_ just said we have to be careful...”

“I know. But there’s no one here now; it’s the end of school on a Friday night, Miss, everyone will have raced to get home for the weekend,” he reasons.

She can’t argue with that; not with her mind in this state at least, all intelligible thoughts have dissolved into nothingness; there’s only room for thoughts of him; wonderful, beautiful, charming, young Matt.

Curling her arms around his neck, she pulls his mouth down to hers and kisses him for all she is worth, wrapping her legs around his desperately. He moans and she hums in delight.

“Next time,” he promises between kisses, “we will do this properly; I’ll strip you slowly and appreciate every inch of luscious golden skin on your body.”

“Promises, promises,” she quips and he grabs her blouse in his hands, staring deep into her eyes, and rips it apart, scattering buttons everywhere; meant in punishment for her cheek. But she just swears and groans and hastily pulls his shirt from his trousers whilst tugging at his tie and he chuckles before helping her with them.

Soon enough he is shirtless and she is down to her bra and she drags him between her legs by his belt loops once more, holding him close; skin against skin, as he mouths at her neck and collarbone, creating a stirring warmth low in her abdomen.

She smoothes her hands up his back before curling her fingers and dragging her nails back down his soft skin. He groans and bucks his hips into hers sending a flash of electric heat through her body, and suddenly he is not close enough. She no longer cares who else might be hanging around the school. She no longer cares about their age difference. She no longer _cares_. She just wants him, _needs_ him, now.

“Matt, please?” she begs breathlessly as he runs his tongue along the lace edge of her bra. She promptly reaches behind her and unclips it, shrugging the straps off her shoulders and letting it fall between them.

He steps back, admiring her as he throws the garment to the floor, before delicately cupping her breasts and stroking his thumbs across her nipples. She sighs in delight and he slides his hands round to her back, kissing her tenderly as he lowers her until she is lying back against the desk. Her hands in his hair, he purrs with contentment as he descends her body, pausing to lick and nip at her beautiful, smooth breasts, before dipping his tongue in her bellybutton; causing her to giggle and attempt to sit up, then down further as he gently pushes her shoulders back to the wood beneath her.

She relishes the feel of his warm breath against her skin and enjoys being the one to run her hands through his feathery hair, like she has so often seen him do. All too soon he moves too far away for her to reach him, but he notices her loss and reaches a hand up for her to hold; lacing their fingers together as he kneels on the floor, dipping his head beneath her skirt and nudging his nose against her clit through her lacy knickers.

She gasps and her grip on his hand tightens.

“Oh, Miss, you smell amazing,” he mumbles deliriously against her inner thigh, dropping a kiss there before turning his head for more.

She whimpers in frustration, wriggling against him and he squeezes her hand comfortingly before letting go and pulling back. She is about to sit up and ask him what he’s doing when she feels his fingers slide up her thighs and hook into the elastic of her knickers, before slowly pulling them down her legs.

Her heart skips a beat as she realises they are about to pass the point of no return and she inwardly panics for a moment as he discards her underwear and slips her heels from her dainty feet. But then the feel of his warm, capable hands kneading the aching muscles in the soles of her feet causes all doubt and fear to evaporate and she hums contentedly; no longer worrying as his hands stroke their way over her ankles and up her calves.

He reverently kisses the inside of each knee before kneeling up and reaching for her hand again; which she takes willingly. Using the other hand to bunch her skirt up and out of the way, he then moves her legs so they are hanging over his shoulders.

“Just relax,” he assures her softly.

She briefly wonders whether he’s ever done this before, but that thought soon leaves her like lightning as he takes his first, experimental lick.

She shudders and clutches his hand tightly, feeling him smile against her before diving in to eagerly taste more. He licks and sucks and swirls his tongue as she whimpers and moans and rocks her hips, one hand holding hers, the other wrapped around her thigh and attempting to keep her hips still. She lets out an obscene moan as he flicks his tongue over her clit and he moves his hand round from her thigh to gently press two fingers up inside her.

“Oh god, _Matt_ ,” she whines, adjusting her grip on his hand and lifting one of her legs to rest her foot on his shoulder; giving him better access.

“Let go Alex,” he whispers against her skin, pumping his fingers deep inside her, “I’ve got you, I’ll look after you.” He returns his attentions to her clit, sucking it between his teeth as she grinds uncontrollably against his face and falls apart with a scream.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Hello everybody :) I am so sorry for leaving you for so long, I'd just got out of touch with my writing as I went to drama school. But I've got back into it over Christmas and have been writing more of this story again too. I have ideas and it's going somewhere. So I shall begin posting chapters every fortnight as I write this to the end.
> 
> Enjoy! x

She lays in bed, wide awake, staring at her ceiling but only seeing Matt.

She had returned the favour after their encounter in the classroom, but they both agreed it was too risky for anything more. Besides, the cleaners were around and would want to close up the school soon; and as exciting as it sounds, being locked in a school with Matt all night, it's definitely not the best idea.

She checks the clock beside her; twenty past two, and rolls onto her side, deciding to get some sleep. But closing her eyes only brings back the warm feeling of Matt between her legs; she can see him behind her eyelids.

What has she done?

 

She heads into school on Monday, determined not to let anything appear different between them. Of course, she now knows quite how talented this boy can be, but that shouldn't change anything; she's still his teacher, his superior, and shall be until he finishes school.

She watches surreptitiously from behind her desk as he enters her classroom , gathering the equipment he needs and seeking out the painting he had begun on her portrait. She tries to avoid him most of the lesson; intrigued as she is to see the progress he was making on their painting. It had surprised her but filled her heart with warmth when she discovered who he'd decided to paint; she knows she needs to be careful around him, especially after Friday night, he's so young and not suitable for more than just a fling. _You shouldn't even be considering him for that, Alex!_ She scolds herself. _Well... too late now._

He doesn't pay her much attention either, she realises as she purveys the scene, checking on the other students' work. He seems so involved in what he's doing, so focused on perfecting his work; it's like he's somewhere else entirely. It makes her smile - _And there we go again,_ she thinks, she can't help it as it creeps across her face, _he doesn't even have to do anything and he makes me smile._ The butterflies flutter gently in her stomach; she's got used to them now.

She spends the remainder of the lesson watching him work. All too soon the bell rings and the class pack up their things and file out of the classroom for break.

No surprise, Matt stays behind.

Unable to resist any longer, Alex skips up behind him and peers over his shoulder at his painting.

"I need more time, Alex," he says, sensing her proximity.

"To paint?" she queries.

"To paint this... _you_ ," he emphasises, "to do you justice."

And the butterflies take flight once more.

"I think you're doing wonderfully darling," she glances over the painting; he's added so much to it since last time.

"Your hair is a nightmare, Miss," he finally stands from his chair, turning to her and pulling gently on a lose tendril hanging by her ear. "I don't know how I'm even going to start on painting that."

"Well, perhaps I could give you a few helpful tips," she suggests, her voice lower than she intended.

"On how to paint your hair? Or on... other things?" he asks cheekily.

She chuckles, "I don't think you need any tips on those _other things_ ," she raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" he steps closer, his voice dropping an octave. "You're happy with the work I did on Friday, are you?" They both know exactly what he is referring to, and it's not his painting. "No notes on how I could improve?"

"There's always room from improvement, darling," she purrs.

"Not from my perspective," he comments, " _you_ were perfect."

"Matthew- " her voice catches.

"You _are_ perfect," he tucks the rogue tendril behind her ear, slipping soft fingers across her jaw and bringing her lips to his.

It's different now, when they kiss, she feels electric. The energy between them turns her on so immediately, the heat so intense, she just wants to throw everything off the table next to them and pull him down on top of her.

Of course, she doesn't.

Instead she allows him to feel what he's doing to her without actually acting on it; whimpering and opening her mouth to him, she presses herself all against him and pulls him against her. Kissing him back so desperately, any onlooker might know exactly what has passed between them.

Fortunately, no such onlooker exists, and they soon break apart, panting and keeping each other close.

"I want you so much," Matt admits breathily, sending an extra jolt of heat through her body. She knows; she'd felt him against her hip, but the statement thrills her all the same.

"Perhaps..." she begins slowly, not really thinking before speaking, "you could come round... sometime - for a weekend or something - and we could... um... we could work on your painting," she still tries to catch her breath, "together."

"You want me to come over to your house for a weekend?" he asks, holding his breath.

"Um..." she thinks, "Yes?"

"To work on my painting?"

"Yes."

"You know we'd hardly get anything done, don't you..."

"What do you- "

"You know exactly what I mean, Alex," he urges her, "it sounds like an amazing idea - I mean - I'd love to, but... we wouldn't be working on my painting..."

"What would we be working on?" she asks, feigning innocence.

He chuckles, "each other?"

"Matthew!"

"Well we would! Wouldn't we?" he resolves, "There's no way we could go a whole weekend working together, just the two of us, and keep our hands to ourselves."

"Is that a challenge, darling?"

"Yeah, if you like."

"Twenty bucks?"

"Fifty."

"Honestly, Matt, come on. I don't want to rob you of all your pocket money."

"You won't," he winks, "'cause I'm gonna win!"

"Fine," she puts her hand out for him to shake, "it's a deal."

"If we manage to keep our hands off each other for the entire weekend; you win. But if you touch me intimately, even once; I win."

" _Intimately_?"

"Well, no touch at all is difficult for _any_ one," he reasons. "Anyway, I won't be able to stay the night, so that should make it easier."

"We'll see," she gives him a challenging look as she turns to sort the class for the next lesson.

Matt clears away his things, catching Alex unawares for one last possessive kiss as he exits the classroom.


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the week goes by pretty much the same as always. Matt stays behind after art club to chat, and steal another kiss from her pretty lips. Alex frets about what she has let herself in for but with one look at him her worries melt away. She watches him play football with his friends at lunchtime, and finds excuses to pass by the hall as they rehearse for West Side Story. By the time her usual class on Friday comes around, they are back in their routine, but her butterflies refuse to settle.

"Sorry I gotta run, Miss," Matt apologises at the end of class; this time one of the first to pack up and she hadn't managed to see his painting since Tuesday.

"That's alright, Matt," she smiles as he approaches her desk, trying to keep her cool as there are other eyes in the room. "I hope rehearsal goes well."

"Thanks, Miss," he slings his bag over his shoulder and turns to leave the classroom. "Have a _great_ weekend," he has the audacity to wink over his shoulder before scampering off down the corridor.

She blushes profusely, she can feel the heat burning in her cheeks and back to her ears. Head down, she subtly surveys the room to see all the other students still packing away and seeing to their own affairs. She sighs and feels her colour return to normal. No one had noticed.

Mr Bates has left her quite well alone since their meeting last week, of which she is rather grateful, but she quietly wishes him a good weekend as she passes him on her way out of the school.

 

Back home Alex forces herself to breath as she thinks about the coming days. She is certainly up for Matt's challenge, but whether she can actually complete it is another matter entirely.

She has dinner and tidies up a little before uncovering all her paints and art equipment; setting things up for her weekend plans, before heading to bed.

Again, she can't sleep. Thoughts of Matt keep running through her mind.

She's actually going to have him in her house. Her home. For two whole days. She will steer him straight into the art studio and there they will stay, only leaving for the occasional snack, drink and dinner. That way, she knows all they will get up to is work; whether it's directly on his painting or whether it's her showing him some of her work to inspire him or teach him special tricks and techniques she's picked up over the years.

Whatever they do, they are _not_ going to sleep with each other.

Although, now she's thinking of that, she finds it is all she can think about. Why not sleep with him? They've gone so far physically in their relationship already, it's just the next logical step. They could do it in the kitchen as she cooks dinner; or in the studio; in the bath as they relax in the evening; or maybe she could even drag him into her bed.

Yes, she'd lose out on £50, but honestly, she doesn't care.

Lying in her bed, these sordid thoughts floating around her head, she doesn't notice her hands wandering of their own accord, until she hears herself moan.

Coming back to the world around her she finds one hand resting on her breast and the other inside her pyjama bottoms. Stilling her hands, she bites her lip and contemplates her actions. He has such an overwhelming effect on her, it's addictive; and she hasn't even had him yet. Mind set, she closes her eyes and allows her fingers to please her as she pictures Matt between her legs once more.

 

In her haze last night she forgot to set her alarm and is woken instead by the doorbell at 9am.

"Shit!" she rolls out of bed and throws a dressing gown around her, charging down the stairs as she hears the doorbell again. "I'm coming," she calls out, just tying her gown around the waist as she reaches the door and opens it.

"Not yet I hope," Matt beams cheekily before taking in the sight before him.

"What?" she squints up at him, eyes still adjusting to being awake.

"You said 'I'm coming'," he repeats her in a daze, "I said 'not yet I hope'."

"Oh," she swats at him, "you ridiculous boy. Get inside."

"Inside _you_? Or inside your house?" he mumbles as he stumbles through her door.

"My _house_ ," she gives him an unimpressed look before closing the door and turning to go back upstairs.

"Shame," he smirks, tugging on the belt of her robe.

"Matthew!" she smacks the back of his hand playfully, "get off me. I have fifty quid to win."

"You're not going to win," he says resolutely.

"Well, I'm not giving up this quickly."

"You may as well," he coaxes, following her up the stairs a few steps behind. "If you're going to lose anyway..."

"I may not lose- "

"You can't keep your hands off me, Miss."

"What happens if it's the other way around?" She suddenly turns at the top of the stairs. "What if it's _you_ who can't keep his hands to himself?"

"Theeen... neither of us win."

"I think I should win."

"You're never going to win," he advances on her playfully as she back slowly towards her destination.

It's not until she has her back against the door and Matt encroaching her personal space - not that she minds - that she remembers her destination is her bedroom. Having Matt follow her into her bedroom would not be a good idea.

"The paints are in my studio, downstairs," she suddenly says, throwing him off course momentarily.

"Pardon?"

"If you want to go and familiarise yourself with my equipment- "

"Oh, I do..." Matt hums, edging closer still.

"My _art_ equipment," she emphasises, trying not to laugh, "then my studio is downstairs, at the end of the hall, on the right. I'll be down shortly."

"Why?" he asks, his breath moving her curls. "What are you doing?"

"I've just rolled out of bed, darling, you woke me. I need a shower and to put some clothes on- "

"I can help you with that- "

"Nah-haha-no!" She shakes her head, reaching behind her to find the door handle. "I don't think so, sweetie. We should try and stick to this challenge, it'll be good for us. I'll see you in the studio in a bit." She manages to open the door and slips inside as he's standing there in shock. "The kitchen's at the bottom of the stairs on the left, help yourself to a drink if you want."

And with that she shuts the door.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my good god! I just read over this and my 'Dear Diary' Christmas fic and whooo... did I really write these!?!
> 
> And thank you to all of you for leaving comments and kudos. I apologise for having left you for so long. I have been super busy at drama school, and I know that's no excuse, but life has simply run away with me.
> 
> I am, however, now graduated from drama school, applying and auditioning for work and meanwhile at a loss for what to do with all the time I now find myself with, so... I therefore propose I continue writing some of these unfinished stories. I know I have been away a long time and I hope you can forgive me, you've all been so loyal in following my stories and I'd love to get back to the friendships we once made.
> 
> And, without further ado, a much overdue New Year's present for you all.
> 
> Enjoy x

Leaning back heavily against the inside of her bedroom door, she squeezes her eyes shut and wills Matt to walk away and to the studio, instead of coming in after her.

To her relief, a few moments later, she hears the shuffle of his feet as he makes his way back to the stairs and the creak of the floorboards as he descends them. Releasing the breath she didn't know she was holding, Alex gets on with finding suitable painting clothes and taking a quick, refreshing shower.

"Right then, darling," she begins breezily as she enters her studio with a glass of water. "Shall we look at your painting first and then go from there?"

They spend the morning studying the incredible portrait of the beautiful Alex Kingston; his teacher, his inspiration, his muse, his fancy. He can hardly concentrate on what she's telling him; too busy concentrating on the curve of her lips as she speaks, and how amazing they felt around him as she sucked him off at school last week.

She's wearing baggy, paint spattered jeans and a plain vest-top with straps that keep falling off her shoulders. Nothing special. But she still looks stunning. She unknowingly keeps giving him fabulous flashes of cleavage as she leans over his painting.

"So, where do you want to start, darling," she finishes, glancing up at him expectantly.

He reaches forward and slowly slides a disobedient strap up her arm and back onto her shoulder, where it belongs, before bracing himself to reply.

She suppresses the shiver that runs through her at his touch; he's being gentlemanly, she won't call him out on it. He can't help that she already wants to press him back into the floorboards and straddle him, he doesn't know that the slightest touch seems to sends sparks straight to her core. She gulps dryly, reaching for her water as she awaits his response.

Hours later, after watching him paint and helping him out with little things every now and then, her stomach rumbles and she declares it time for lunch. 

She encourages him to keep going while she sets it up.

They keep glancing at each other over their comfortably silent meal, sure each other's thoughts are matching their own. But still, once they have finished eating and it's all been cleared away, they return to Matt's painting.

As the afternoon draws on Alex realises they may actually finish his painting before the evening; he's coming on in leaps and bounds. But, she also realises, she doesn't want him to complete it so early. What will she do tomorrow? He won't need to come back. She watches him as he paints from across the sunlit room, admiring his posture and his accuracy. He's so intent on making this painting perfect, she decides to pick on little things that could be improved on and make him alter them so that he needs to stay longer.

"Alex?" he queries on the third alteration.

"Matt."

"I think it's perfect how it is, it doesn't need all these little changes. I don't want to make it worse."

"You won't make it worse, darling."

"Are you just thinking of excuses to get me to stay?" He asks bluntly.

"I-I...no. Why would I- "

"I'm coming back tomorrow..."

"Yes but you won't need to if you've completed your painting," she reasons, feeling a little subdued.

"You could help me with... um... with other homework?" he suggests timidly.

"I'm not sure I could, sweetie," she runs her fingers through his hair absent-mindedly, "I don't know much about history and... what else do   
you read?... biology?"

"I don't do biology," he chuckles, "but I'm sure you'd be great at it anyway," he smirks, "especially when it comes to anatomy or-erm... the reproductive system- "

"Matthew- " she chastises him, ungrateful for the crude reminder of how much younger than she he is.

"Sorry," he grins goofily, "I do have drama work you could help me with," he suggests helpfully.

"I don't want to keep you from your homework, Matt. You don't need to come over tomorrow, I'm just a silly, old woman is all."

"No you're not- "

"I was just looking forward to spending the whole weekend with you and- " He cuts her off by kissing her. Only for a moment. "What was that for?"

"I dunno," he replies honestly, "I just felt like it."

She allows herself to smile before sighing and deflating once more.

"Alex, I'm having so much trouble learning my lines for Tony," he takes his hands in hers, "Mum's told me to get my sister to practice with me, but she's hopeless. So, if you'd go through some lines with me tomorrow, that would be amazing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm sure. Oh, Miss, it'll be great fun. You can play Maria and I'm Tony, of course, and we can really get into the characters..."

"But we're not actually in love, Matt," she warns. But as soon as she says it she gets the uncomfortable feeling of doubt in the back of her   
mind. He's not in love with her, is he? He's fond of her, undoubtedly; she's fond of him too. And he's so talented and kind and respectful... and beautiful. She's not falling in love with him, is she? She can't. She knows she needs to be careful. Would sleeping with him fix this feeling? Make him more real and less of a dream? Or would it make it worse, drag her down until she loses her heart?

"No, no, course not," he replies quickly, "it's acting."

"Right."

"So, can I still come over tomorrow?"

He's so eager and enthusiastic, how can she refuse. "Of course you can, sweetie."

"Thank you for teaching me so much today, Miss," he beams, staring at his painting. "You really are beautiful, aren't you?"

Alex's breath catches and she feels her eyes sting, pasting on a smile and blinking rapidly as he glances between herself and the painting. 

"You've done a marvellous job, darling," she breathes, daring to step closer.

He turns as she approaches, focussing all his attention on her. She halts about half a foot's distance from him and he reaches out, wrapping his hands around her waist and tugging her into him. Her strap falls from her shoulder and he tenderly slides it back up again, his eyes not leaving hers.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he says, his voice low and quiet, before pressing his lips against hers and, again, leaving her with a jolt of   
electricity from the contact; breathless, butterflies flitting frantically in her stomach, and walking out her front door.

"Tomorrow then," she repeats dreamily, turning her attention from her doorway to his flawless painting.


	14. Chapter 14

The following morning, Alex is up and ready for him. She has no plan for the day, except not to give in to his charms.

"Morning," she smiles as she answers the door to him around ten.

"Hey, Miss," he replies as he steps over the boundary and closes the door behind him. "You ready to fall in love with me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, for Maria to fall in love with Tony- "

"Oh, yes, of course," she blushes and hopes he doesn't notice.

"How's my painting look this morning?" he enquires.

"It's great, Matt, truly," she brightens, leading him through the house, "come and see for yourself."

Alex leans against the doorframe of her studio as she watches Matt inspect his painting. He's very critical of himself, she notices, especially with this painting. She can see it means a lot to him.

"You're breath-taking," he mutters as he studies his work.

"I'm not, Matt," she sighs modestly, "your painting is."

"You are too," he turns to her once again.

"You're not thinking I'm someone else?"

"No," he chuckles, "But that reminds me, I have two scenes I'd like to practice with you, if that's alright?"

"Oh, your play, yes of course, darling," she pulls him through the house by his hand to the living room so they can set themselves up comfortably for the scenes. "I used to do a bit of acting when I was younger, you know," she enthuses.

"Really? Fantastic! Well then, let's really get into the parts," he rummages in his bag, "here's the script. You can have it 'cause I think I know the words - I should do by now. This is a good test for me."

"Fabulous. Alright then, darling, where do you want me?"

 

A few minutes later has Alex at the top of her stairs leaning over the banister, pretending it's a balcony, with Matt gradually scaling the stairs, as if he were Tony climbing his way up to Maria.

"Maria, Maria..." Matt sing-songs as Tony.

"Cállate!" Alex exclaims as Maria, reaching her hand out to stop him. "Shush!"

Matt grabs her hand and copies loudly, "Shush!"

"It is dangerous." Alex barely needs the script as they become the characters.

"I'm not 'one of them.'" He whispers.

"You are," she contradicts, "but to me, you are not. Just as I am one of them..." she gestures behind her.

"To me, you are all the- "

She suddenly stops him, covering his mouth with her hand. Turning her head over her shoulder as if she'd heard her name being called. "Sí, ya vengo, Papa." She replies.

"Maruca?" Matt questions playfully as Tony.

"His pet name for me." She replies as Maria.

"I like him. He will like me." He states boldly.

"No. He is like Bernardo: afraid." She glances down in sorrow, before a beaming smile spreads across her face and she laughs. "Imagine being afraid of you!"

"You see?"

"I see you." She whispers in earnest, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. She's enjoying this, being able to touch him and whisper sweetly to him, without it actually meaning anything because they're acting.

"See only me." His eyes are on hers and his voice is low and gravelly and it sends a shiver through her. She wants to break character, to promise she _does_ see only him, and she _wants_ only him. But she remains composed and continues as Maria, glancing at her lines only momentarily before...

"I cannot stay. Go quickly!" She pushes weakly at his chest.

"I'm not afraid." He refuses to budge.

"They are strict with me. Please."

"Good night." He leans in quickly and pecks her on the lips.

Taken by surprise it takes her a moment to reply, "Buenos noches."

"I love you."

She hurriedly looks down at the script at that, hoping to hide the blush coming to her cheeks as she worries her bottom lip, hoping she doesn't have to say it back.

"Yes, yes. Hurry." She sighs with relief, pushing at his chest once more and he begins to climb back down the stairs, barely turning from her. "Wait!" She calls out, reaching towards him, "When will I see you?" He starts back up. "No!" She halts him with a giggle.

"Tomorrow." He stands and stares into her eyes.

"I work at the bridal shop. Come there."

"At sundown."

"Yes. Good night."

"Good night." He turns to head down the stairs once more.

"Tony!"

"Shush!" He turns back to her halfway down.

"Come to the back door." She whispers, elated.

"Si." He confirms, turning again and getting down three more steps before...

"Tony!" They both chuckle as he stops once more, glancing up at her with amusement. "What does Tony stand for?"

"Anton."

Alex holds her breath, pausing before she comes in with her next line. "Te adoro, Anton."

"Te adoro, Maria." He replies swiftly, dancing down the last few stairs and off round the corner into the kitchen.

Alex bites her lip, fingers clenched tight around the script as she contemplates the scene they've just done. It's such a beautiful, fast paced script. And she knows she was playing a part, that they weren't really expressing their love for one another, but it felt awfully close to a line she wasn't willing to cross.

She relaxes again as he pops his head back round the corner, beaming from ear to ear and she chuckles, shaking her head in delight.

"That was fantastic!" He enthuses. "You're a really good actor."

"No I'm not, darling," she muses, slowly making her way down the stairs towards him, "but thank you. That was fun."

He makes his way towards her too, stepping up two stairs to reach her. "It was," he agrees, "I wish they'd allow teachers to be in the school musical, then you could play Maria instead of Lucinda."

"Who's Lucinda?" Alex asks, hoping only she could hear the tint of jealousy behind it.

"A girl in the year below me at school," he replies with a shrug, " she got the part of Maria. And, I mean, she's nice, she plays the sweet, innocent part well, but she's a bit funny about the kissing." He looks up at her hungrily at that, stepping in closer to her, "I'm so glad I have you to practice with at least."

"Matt," she warns, stepping down to his step with the intent of continuing to the bottom of the stairs and putting space between them.

But his hands wind around her waist and he pulls her close and she can't help but pause as she looks into those deep hazel eyes. "Tony should take Maria into his arms and kiss her for all he is worth," he states.

"He can't, Matt," she attempts to reason with him, her hands resting on his chest, "they'd get into so much trouble if they were caught kissing like that, and besides, it's kind of cute-"

He cuts her off with a peck to her lips, looking down at her to gauge her reaction.

"Matt-"

He does it again.

"Stop i-"

And again.

"Matthe-" she's getting frustrated with him, he can tell so he locks his lips with hers and presses her gently back against the banister.

She whimpers as she feels his hips lean into hers, and opens her mouth to him, running her hands up his chest and into his hair, before pulling away and gasping.

"Matt we're not supposed to be doing this," she shakes her head, pushing him away from her.

"But we're not, we're being Tony and Maria-"

"No, Matt," she replies sternly, "acting does not make it okay."

"But-"

"No," she removes his hands from her waist and turns from him, walking down the last few steps. She halts just before she enters the kitchen, looking back at him on the stairs, "besides, I have a bet to win," she winks and sashays through the door with a smile.


	15. Chapter 15

"Don't worry. She likes us!" Matt exclaims as Tony, referring to Anita; Maria's sister.

"But she is worried." Alex replies as Maria. They are in the kitchen rehearsing another scene, as the last one went so well.

"She's foolish. We're untouchable; we are in the air; we have magic!" Matt dances around the room.

"Magic is also evil and black." She points out, manoeuvring herself to the corner of the counter, leaning her arms on the surfaces either side of her and fixing him with a look. "Are you going to that rumble?"

"No." He replies, dashing to her.

"Yes." She counters, pushing him away again.

"Why??" he crosses the room, leaning against the cupboards on the opposite wall.

"You must go and stop it."

"I have stopped it! It's only a fist fight. 'Nardo won't get-"

"Any fight is not good for us."

"Everything is good for us and we are good for everything." He sidles back over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Listen and hear me." She removes his hands but holds them in her own. "You must go and stop it."

"Then I will." He pulls on her hands so she stumbles into him, kissing her in her moment of distraction.

Forcing herself not to get lost in it, she pulls away and smiles, "Can you?"

"You don't want even a fist fight? There won't be any fight." He pulls her into the centre of the room.

"I believe you! You do have magic." They spin elatedly.

"Of course, I have you," he stops spinning and bops her on the nose. "You go home and dress up. Then tonight, I will come by for you." He runs from her to the doorway.

"You cannot come by. My mama..."

He contemplates that, walking slowly towards her again. "Then I will take you to my house-"

" _Your_ mama..." she shakes her head.

There is an awkward pause. Matt looks around the room until his eyes land on Alex's round, blue teapot with tiny flowers covering it. He rushes over to it and places it at the end of the counter. "She will come running from the kitchen to welcome you." Alex giggles at what he is trying to re-enact. "She lives in the kitchen."

"Dressed so elegant?" She moves closer to the counter, turning the teapot and admiring the design.

"I told her you were coming. She will look at your face and try not to smile. And she will say:" he rakes his eyes over Alex's form and she stops herself from looking away, holding her breath, "skinny-but pretty."

She rolls her eyes at that, knowing full well that was the line and not his real opinion. Besides, she's all curves, no-one would describe her as skinny. "She is plump no doubt." She continues, glancing at the script.

"Fat!" He emphasises the roundness of the teapot.

Alex looks around the room, taking a wine glass out of the cupboard above them and placing it next to the teapot, running a dainty finger round the rim. "I take after my mama;" she sighs, wishing it were true, "delicate-boned."

He kisses her, suddenly, pulling her close and taking her by surprise, even though she knew it was coming in the script. She gives in a little, moaning and wrapping her arms around his neck. Good god, she'd be a terrible actor, coming out of character and getting distracted by the actor she's playing opposite. Or perhaps she is only getting distracted now because it is Matt. Oh how she loves the feel of his warm body pressed all against her own. Her fingers losing themselves in his feathery hair. _His_ fingers drawing lazy circles over her lower back, then pulling her ever closer and diving into her curls.

Their kiss becomes more desperate without her really noticing; mouths opening to each other and tongues exploring. With one hand still on the back of his neck, she runs the other down his spine and pulls his hips flush against hers, gasping quietly as it sends a thrill right through her.

Without breaking from her, he turns them, pushing her back against the counter where the glass and teapot stand. He places his hands either side of her on the counter behind her, leaning up over her as he kisses her senseless. She finds her hands on his hips, fingers curled around his belt loops, pulling him desperately closer.

She lifts her foot, curling it round his ankle and dragging him between her legs, shivering at the groan he releases. His hand moves from the counter to her arse, over her hip and down her thigh, hiking her leg up around his waist as he grinds against her. She finally breaks from him, gasping in air and dropping her head back, before quickly coming to her senses. What the hell are they doing!?!

"Not in front of Mama!" She gasps the next line, hurriedly pushing at him and dancing around the room away from him.

He turns the wine glass around with a grin on his face as she grabs a mug out of another cupboard.

"Oh," she exclaims, her heart still racing, "I would like to see Papa in this!" She looks at the man on the front of the mug, dressed in a tweed jacket and a bowtie, with a fez on his head, stepping into a blue police box. "Mama will make him ask about your prospects, if you go to church. But Papa," she bites her lip, placing the mug beside the wine glass, "Papa might like you."

Matt immediately drops to his knees in front of the mug, "May I have your daughter's hand?" He pauses for a moment before, "Gracias!" He springs up in delight.

"And your mama?"

"I'm afraid to ask her."

"Tell her she's not getting a daughter; she's getting rid of a son!"

He glances at the teapot, "She says yes." He claps his hands together in glee.

"She has good taste." Alex winks.

"Maid of honour!" He states as he adds the pepper shaker to the others on the counter.

"That colour is bad for Anita." Alex mumbles as Matt flies around the room in search of other objects. He's so dedicated, she thinks to herself as her heart rate begins to calm. She should probably be worried about him in her kitchen with her things, her _very_ _breakable_ things, being as clumsy as he is, but she finds herself not caring much and just watching him in wonder.

"Best man!" he picks up the mug they used earlier.

"That is my papa!"

"Sorry, Pap," he gently places the mug back down and grabs the salt shaker, "Here we go, Riff."

"Now you see, Anita," Alex talks to the pepper shaker, "I told you there was nothing to worry about."

Matt turns the radio on when she isn't looking and classical music begins to play. She leaves the shakers and mugs, glasses and teapot, turning slowly to face him. Unable to resist his outstretched hand, she walks over to him, silently placing a hand on his shoulder as he takes her other hand in his and wraps an arm around her waist. He sways them gently to the music, holding her close and Alex finds herself gently resting her head on his shoulder as they dance.

They are a little like Tony and Maria, she thinks to herself, in that they should not be doing what they're doing and they would both get into deep trouble if they were caught. Matt is very like Tony too, she contemplates, smart and funny, a little cheeky but always gets away with it somehow. And beautifully handsome. But young....Oh, so _young_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!!
> 
> I have no words in which to express how sorry I am for being so bad at writing and uploading this fiction.
> 
> I literally have one chapter left to write, so I WILL get it done. In the meantime I have kept you all waiting for far too long and I'll understand completely if you don't come back to me. But, please do because I love your comments and I plan to write more.
> 
> I am now a professional actor, as you know, I graduated drama school last summer and I have been working this year!  
> So, I will have some majorly busy moments in my life and then some crazy 'dry' spells where I have nothing. I aim to keep writing, as much as possible, all the time. However, major busy-ness may intervene, but 'dry' spells always appear, so even if I have to hiatus between chapters, I promise I will give you more amazing Doctor Who fan fiction.
> 
> I have also recently been introduced to 'Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries', which some of you may be fans of. I myself have fallen in love - I didn't know it was possible to fall so hard for two fictional people at the same time. (River and Phryne - although you could definitely add Regina from OUAT to that list as well!) So, my dears, I am considering writing some Phrack fic as well. But we shall see. It may be a while before any of that is ready. Do let me know if it would be of any interest ;)
> 
> And, without further ado, as you have waited damn long enough, here is the next chapter of this sensational Mattex fic!
> 
> Enjoy x

They sway together, the lull of the soft music guiding their gentle steps across the kitchen floor. She breathes him in, from the crook of his neck, he smells divine; a little spicy with a hint of something completely unique. She has a fleeting urge to taste him, to lick along the line of his throat, _but would he class that as touching 'intimately'? She'd lose her fifty quid. Did that matter?_ She decides upon caressing his skin with a kiss of her lips instead; so lightly, she could dismiss it as just her breath if he challenges her.

She feels his hand splay across her lower back and he pulls her tighter to him, sighing, as her lips brush his delicate skin.

She wonders briefly what they will do next, once the music ends; they've finished the scene and he didn't have any more he wanted to go through. It's still early, she doesn't want him to leave. Perhaps they could start another art project and she could teach him some more. Or, they _could_...

Just as she considers their next move, the music finishes with a sweet tinkle on high notes and there is a moment of silence before the smooth voice of the presenter announces the next song, breaking the spell.

"I think you've got that scene under your belt too now, darling," she speaks, attempting to uncurl herself from his arms, her voice barely above a whisper.

But he doesn't release her. Keeping her firmly against him with the hand on her back, his other hand slides under her hair to the back of her neck and she just has time to see the glint in his eye before his lips are on hers once more.

She moans. She can't help it. He is just entirely too delicious.

She can feel him walking her backwards, excitement thrumming through her at his possible intentions, and she does nothing to stop him.

She gasps as her back hits her kitchen table. " _You_ would most definitely have lost that bet by now, young man," she means to sound chastising, but her voice comes out rather more breathless and needy than intended.

She feels him smile against her mouth, dropping one last kiss there before pulling back and gazing down at her.

"Which is why I set it up so that it only counts if _you_ touch _me_ , not the other way around," he grins wickedly before leaning in again.

She halts him with a hand on his chest. "You did nothing of the kind," she retorts, "You can't change the rules as you go along, Matthew, that's not fair!"

"You know what else is not fair, Miss," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Your allure."

"My _allure_?" She repeats in surprise; both at the word he'd used and the fact that he knew how to use it.

"Yes," he presses his hips against her so she can feel exactly how alluring she is to him, "you're entirely too attractive and irresistible."

"I could say the same about you, darling," she breathes, allowing her hands to come to rest on his hips; her mind flashes back to the image of him playing football, dedicating his goal to her, his shirt over his head with those muscles and _hipbones_... she bites her lip.

"Alright, then," he brings her back to the present, his eyes deeply focused on her mouth as he speaks, "let's stick with the original challenge." He, unbelievably, steps back from her and she immediately mourns the loss of contact. " _Neither_ of us are allowed to touch the other for the rest of this weekend."

"What? Not at _all_?" She queries as her voice shakes.

"Not. At. All." He confirms.

He walks backward until he reaches the counter opposite her, using it to hold him up, it would seem, as much as she was using her table. Their breathing heavy, the tension in the air heavy, the potential consequences of their actions heavy. She bites her lip. _What are they supposed to do now?_

She watches him from across the room, he's much too far away for her liking. He flicks the radio off and the room goes silent, save the heaving of their breaths as they both restrain themselves from reaching for each other.

Her eyes widen suddenly as his hands lift to his shirt and she watches in both excitement and horror as he begins to undo the buttons.

"What are you doing?" her voice sounds husky.

"Making the game harder," he responds as if it's obvious.

" _Why_?"

"And I'm upping the stakes... one hundred pounds to the person who resists longest."

"Darling, don't be silly, I don't want all your money- "

"So _sure_ of yourself, Alex," he hums confidently, glancing up at her, eyes sparkling.

_What does he have planned?_ She wonders to herself. _He seems so sure she's not going to be able to resist him. But she's older and wiser and has had much more experience at these games. Granted they had never been as dangerous as this - less severe consequences for getting caught. But that just made it all the more exciting!_

"You taking those off too," she eyes his trousers teasingly as his shirt falls from his shoulders.

"Yep."

His short, honest reply surprises her and she swallows hard as his hands move to his belt. _That's not fair,_ she _wants to be the one removing his belt. She'd thoroughly enjoyed the tremble in his thighs as she'd undone his belt at school the other day, before running her hands over him and finally, uncharacteristically, running her mouth over him. Oh how she wants to do that again._

"You _have_ to stop biting that pretty lip of yours though, Miss," his voice holds warning and she notices he's paused in his undressing, his belt on the floor and his flies undone.

"I didn't realise I was even doing it," she admits quietly, then gets an idea. She catches his eye, dipping her head slightly so as to keep his attention, before intentionally catching her bottom lip between her teeth and seductively running her hands down her body.

She can't help the smug smile that comes to her face as he clears his throat and breaks eye contact. She hums pleasantly, sliding her dainty hands up to cup her breasts through her top, and one of those disobedient straps slips off her shoulder once more.

She's not able to distract him for long though, his hands quickly making work of his trousers and socks until he stands before her in only his boxers. She pauses as her eyes rake over him; long elegant toes leading to strong, athletic calves, muscular thighs and skinny, bony hips. Her gaze skims across the brightly coloured waistband of his boxers and she is unable to keep her eyes from flicking down, heat creeping under her skin as she notes quite how aroused he is. She bites her lip again and realises it's reflexive, before tearing her eyes away and drawing them up the rest of his delicious body; his taught stomach, rippling muscles of his ribs, those _shoulders_ , with arms that could no doubt lift her as though she were a feather. Finally, they rest upon his face; the resolute line of his jaw, luscious lips that could kiss her all too well, and eyes; deep enough to drown in and looking directly at her and into her very soul.

She takes a deep, shaky breath and drops her hands to her sides, fiddling with the material at the hem of her top before pulling it up and over her head. She brings her eyes back to his as the garment flutters to the floor, before deftly undoing her jeans and shimmying out of them.

They both stand before each other, stripped but for their underwear.

She watches as his eyes explore her, the way hers did him.

Barely breathing.

The silence hanging between them.

"Now what?" She whispers, her voice cutting through the lust-thick air like a hot knife through butter.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More! More! More!
> 
> Enjoy!x

The shake of his head is almost imperceptible. "Not sure, Miss," he gulps, "I didn't think this far ahead... didn't expect you to _copy_ me..."

"What _were_ you expecting, darling?"

"To tempt you." He replies confidently. "For _me_ to tempt _you_ , not the other way around."

"I think we might both be in out of our depth, sweetie," she considers. The way she saw it they now had two options; number one, they could laugh about this, put all their clothes back on, make dinner together and go on as if nothing had happened; or, number two, they could give in.

She stares at him and he stares back, neither of them making a move.

Perhaps he's too scared to do anything, unable to decide, unwilling to make the first move in case it frightens her away. She'll have to make it easy for him then.

She smiles at him, self-depreciatingly, dropping her eyes and bending her knees with the intention of collecting her shirt from the floor to put back on.

But he moves.

"Don't!" His voice holds hope and she lifts her eyes to his again as she straightens, empty-handed.

He stalks towards her, very slowly, and damn her heart-rate as it picks up pace in anticipation. Then he stops, quite suddenly, about a foot away from her. _Just out of reach_.

"Touch yourself."

His voice is low and she notes his attempt at sounding demanding. Squirming a little under his gaze, her breathing deep and shaky, she gradually lifts her hand, spreading her palm across the silken skin of her stomach.

"Higher," his eyes don't leave hers and he doesn't move.

She slides her hand slowly up her body, resting it over her left breast, where she presumes he wants her to be.

"Now, squeeze," he commands, yet it sounds almost like a question.

He seems so unsure that she will follow his instructions, that bravado she'd seen in him before falling short. But he has nothing to worry about; she'll follow his instructions to the end, no matter what he asks of her right now. And she both loathes and adores him for discovering this clever way to _not_ _touch each other_ but still assist them with their desires.

She squeezes her hand gently over the cup of her bra, eyes fluttering as she finally feels a little relief from her pent up longing.

"Keep your eyes on mine," he interrupts. "Now knock those straps off your shoulders."

She gazes deep into his hazel eyes as she slides the straps seductively from her shoulders.

"And unclip it." Again he sounds a little unsure of himself but the demand spikes her arousal and she obeys; reaching behind her and unclasping her bra with one swift movement, holding her breath as it tumbles to the floor. She watches his gaze darken as she is revealed to him and she can feel her nipples respond, goosebumps creeping across her skin.

"Hand on your stomach again," he orders lightly, and she follows. "This time I want it to travel _south_."

She whimpers as she strokes her hand downwards, her fingers toying with the elastic of her knickers, her eyes never leaving his.

"Yes," he breathes, a mix of permission and plea.

His eyes follow her hand as it dips into her lacy undergarments, playing with wiry curls in the neat patch above where she needs him most. His hand lands on his stomach and immediately falls southwards too, under the elastic of his boxers and around his long, hard member.

She bites her lip on a moan, her brow furrowing and fingers heading further south until they encounter smooth skin and damp folds.

Matt groans as his hand begins to move, watching avidly as her hand slips between her legs. He can't see what she's doing though, how she is pleasuring herself and he soon tells her to stop.

" _Matt_!" She gasps, removing her hand as he'd asked. "You can't tease me now- "

"I'm not trying to," he shakes his head but his hand continues slow, smooth strokes within his boxers. "I just- I need you," he humphs, "I need you to take them off."

"My _knickers_?" She follows his eyes.

"Yes."

"Perhaps _you_ should come over here and take them off me then," she suggests.

"Don't tempt me- "

"Why not- "

"I _can't_ , you know that." His voice is strained and she knows he's doing all he can to stay where he is. "Please, _Alex_ , just... take them off!"

She wastes no more time, hooking her thumbs into the elastic of her knickers and dragging them down her legs, kicking them off as they reach her ankles. Then she stands there in her own kitchen, completely naked before him, feeling a new sense of vulnerability she has rarely felt around him.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes in awe, his hand stopping it's movement against him.

She blushes and looks away, only returning her gaze to him in surprise as he steps closer.

"You _are_ Alex," his voice finds it's confidence once more, "I can't quite believe I'm here."

"There's a way to make it feel more real, darling," she raises her hand slowly towards him, he's close enough to touch now and it's all she wants to do.

"No!" His voice stops her and she drops her hand. "Touch _yourself_ ," he commands again and this time she goes straight for the gold. Delving her hand between her legs, she widens her stance so that she can reach easier, immediately circling her clit before slipping a finger inside her.

She hears Matt swear under his breath as his hand starts up movement again.

She leans back against the table for support, gripping it tight with her other hand. Her breathing laboured already, with so much pent up desire she knows she won't last long, especially with Matt doing ... _that_ ... right in front of her.

She deepens the thrusts of her finger, curling it inside her as she grinds the heel of her hand against her clit. She bites her lip, whimpering, her knuckles turning white as she clings to the table. Matt's eyes watching her every move, he doesn't speed up his movements with hers though, keeping his grip loose and his strokes languid.

"Don't stop," he requests, his voice a rumble.

And as she grinds her hips down into her own hand she feels herself begin to clench around her finger, and _that_ , along with his low mutter of 'oh _Alex_!' sends her over the edge with a cry of his name.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing last week's update, I was rehearsing for my next tour and didn't have my laptop with me.
> 
> Better late than never!
> 
> Enjoy x

She slowly crumples to the floor, trembling with the force of her orgasm.

"Alex?" His soft voice cuts through her haze, "Are you alright?"

She can feel the heat radiating from him as he sits beside her, but adamantly doesn't _touch_ her.

"Fine," she replies, breathless, "that was... _different_."

"That was _amazing_!" He counters.

As the room gradually comes back into focus she notes his hand is still in his boxers and she bites back a chuckle before deciding enough is enough.

"Come here," she rolls onto her knees, batting his hands away and tucking her fingers into the elastic of his boxers.

"But _Miss_ \- " he makes to complain but she stops his mouth with her own, easing his boxers down until he is free from their restraint.

"That's better," she sighs, licking her lips as she admires his length.

"Miss we _can't_ \- "

"Yes, Matthew, we _can_ ," she contradicts him, throwing one leg over his so that she's straddling his thighs.

"But, you'll lose the bet, Miss."

"I no longer _care_ , darling," she strokes her fingers through his floppy fringe, "my desire for you is worth more to me right now."

And with that, she pulls him in for another kiss. Deeper this time. With the intent to distract him as she _finally_ touches him.

She hums with delight as her dainty fingers _finally_ wrap around his hard length and she giggles as he immediately thrusts into her hand.

"See, sweetie," she smiles knowingly, "you need me just as much."

She strokes him two, three times before shuffling forwards on his lap, lining herself up and then pausing, a dissatisfied frown marring her pretty features.

"What now?" He questions breathlessly, a little panic in his voice, "you can't tease _me_ now."

"No darling," she replies, her voice warm and velvety, "but _I've_ lost the bet."

"You have," he agrees, his eyes holding a strange sadness.

"So..."

" _So_? Miss?"

" _Alex_."

"Alex?"

"So, you can _touch_ me now!" she presses her pelvis down just a little, teasing the head of his cock until he catches on, hands moving possessively to her hips as she _finally_ sinks down onto him.

 

She throws her head back as pleasure rips through her like a tidal wave, taking her right to the edge once more. _This_ is what she wanted, what she _needed_. She'd thought about it so often since that first kiss he bestowed upon her in her classroom. She never let herself believe it would actually ever happen. But here they are. Together. As one. And, _oh, he feels so good_.

She rolls her hips experimentally, revelling in his groan of pleasure before he captures her lips with his.

His hands roam the expanse of her naked back, tickling her sides and grabbing handfuls of her arse as she rides him gently. Her climax gradually builds; the fire inside her already lit and being fanned by the feel of him inside her, his arm around her and holding her close, his other hand cupping the back of her head, buried in her curls as his eager tongue plunders her mouth.

Her minds strays to their _encounter_ at school, when he'd seemed so confident and sure of himself as he pleasured her with his talented tongue and fingers. She'd wondered then, and she wonders again now, how experienced this boy really is. Whether he _has_ had sex before or whether he is in fact a superb actor and is able to emit confidence even when he doesn't feel it. _He's so_ young _, it's possible he may have had an experience or two but ... hold on ..._ how _young is he?_ Sixteen _?_

"I'm seventeen, Alex," she hears him grunt, realising she'd been thinking out loud. "And besides, it's a bit late to be asking that now."

"Oh Matt," she tries to still, but he doesn't let her. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"I disagree," he retorts, hands at her hips and keeping them moving. "We know what we're doing, we've known all along this was where we were headed, I tried to warn you about this weekend but you wanted me here anyway."

"Matt..." she whimpers as his voice just adds to her pleasure.

"I can think of no place I would rather be than right here, right now."

"On my kitchen floor...?"

"With _you_ in my arms."

His look is so sincere it is her undoing and she drops her head to his shoulder to muffle her cries as she comes around him.

"Alex," he murmurs as he strokes her back, stilling inside her so she can recover.

Eventually she lifts her head, gazing into his eyes, both hands reaching up to cup his handsome face. She kisses him on the forehead, the nose, the lips, then leans her forehead against his as she catches her breath, much like she did after their first kiss.

"You're amazing, Miss," Matt whispers.

" _Alex_." She implores. She lifts her head and looks him in the eye. "You _have_ to stop calling me 'Miss' when we're alone. But... thank you..." she blushes glancing down, "you're not bad yourself."

She kisses him again, fervently, drawing him in as she regains her strength. She runs one hand down his spine as the other delves into his hair, nails scraping lightly across his scalp. His cock twitches, an evident reminder that he's still buried deep inside her and she gasps, a new wave of heat racing through her.

_Again...?_

"Matt." She breathes his name and something inside him snaps.

He pushes at her hips until she raises herself off him, before gathering her up and lifting her as he stands, turning them and depositing her on the table behind them.

Her hands land on those muscular arms, that were indeed capable of lifting her as if she were a feather, as his land on her waist, promptly shifting down to her arse and shuffling her forward toward the edge of the table.

She wraps her legs around him, her feet pressing him close to her and he lowers his head to her shoulder, nipping and licking his way up her neck and along her jaw, making her squirm, until he finally pecks her on the lips.

He steps back, momentarily searching for something and she frowns, leaning over the edge of the table to see what he's doing.

"Lie back," he encourages her, guiding her down across the hard, wood table. She spies the cushion in his hand and smiles as he places it under her head.

"And people say chivalry is dead," she comments, weaving her fingers with his. He brings her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles before releasing her and lifting her legs up around his hips.

She keens as he sinks inside her once more, arms flinging out to the sides, grappling for some sort of purchase as she tries to keep up with his rapidly increasing rhythm.

Both his hands clutching tight to her thighs, she runs a hand down her leg and entwines her fingers with his, encouraging his grasp from her thigh for something to hold on to.

"Oh god, _Matt_ ," she whimpers, that familiar heat coiling inside her already.

"Yes, Alex," he groans as he thrusts into her with abandon, " _fuck_."

She sends her other hand down to her neglected clit as he continues to hold her flush to him, plunging deep inside her on every thrust.

"Oh, _Alex_!" he whines in pleasure at the sight of her beneath him. Then his eyes widen and he slows suddenly.

"What- what is it,- darling?" she questions.

"No condom- " he looks down at her despairingly.

"No need," she pants, "I- I can't- can't get pregnant. And- trust you're- _ungh-_ you're ok."

"Perfect," he almost purrs, quickening his pace again with renewed vigour.

He unwinds his fingers from her grasp and bats her hand away, taking over from her ministrations and sending jolts of white hot heat through her entire body as she nears release for the third time that afternoon.

" _Fuck_ , Matt," she moans uncontrollably, rolling her hips against him, seeking what she needs most.

The sight of her takes Matt over the edge and he finally spills inside her, his hips erratic before he collapses over her.

She feels him spend himself deep within her and a final current of ecstasy ripples through her as his weight over her prevents her from floating away. She clutches him to her as he recovers, an unfamiliar wave of emotion taking over her momentarily and she blinks rapidly to deflect the tears.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is this week's update!
> 
> (2 in one week you lucky beans!)
> 
> Enjoy x

"They were right," he murmurs as he raises himself up onto his elbows either side of her, "definitely _fuckable_!"

She chuckles lightly beneath him, her hands resting over his biceps as she sighs. "Well I'm glad _you_ think so, darling."

" _I_ was right too," he adds, gazing down into her stormy eyes, "you _are_ beautiful."

Her breath catches and he steals the moment, leaning in to press his lips to hers sweetly, yet passionately, and only for an instant.

He pulls back and stands, lacing their fingers together and pulling her up with him so she's perched on the edge of her kitchen table. She strokes the back of her hand over his cheek, brushing her finger along his jaw before pressing her lips to his in return.

"You can't mention this to anyone at school," she sobers, pushing him away gently so she can hop off the table and retrieve her clothes.

"I would _never_ -"

"If any of your friends talk about me being 'hot' or... _'fuckable'_..." she gives him a look, much like a stern teacher would a cheeky schoolkid.

"Alex," he steps closer and holds her reassuringly by the shoulders, "I won't tell another soul. I promise."

She takes a deep breath and sighs.

"I care about you. I don't want anything to happen to you. So at school... you're just my art teacher. Nothing more. We were careful before, we can be careful again."

She nods, happy, for now, that he'll keep quiet.

"And then _next year_ ," he adds with a cheeky grin, "I'll have graduated and you won't be my teacher anymore."

A small thrill runs through her at his words and she can't help the smile that comes to her face. "You can't tell anyone about this _then_ either," she reminds him, collecting her knickers from the floor and stepping back into them.

"Well no, of course not. But we _can_ start a public affair once I'm done with school. As long as no one suspects it began _before_ \- "

"We'll see, sweetie," she smiles kindly, hooking her bra back into place. "Come on, put your clothes back on before we get cold. And we need to think about something to eat- shall I order in?"

"I can already think of something to eat, Miss," he licks his lips enticingly, "but it requires you to _stop_ putting your clothes back on."

"Matthew," she gasps, swatting him.

"Don't act so shocked, Miss, I've just been inside you. It's no worse than that!"

"Oh you are incorrigible!"

"You love it," he winks, reaching for her and sliding his hands around her waist.

"I do," she gives in, resting her hands over his bare chest as she studies his gaze. "This is a dangerous game, Matt. We can have an illicit affair but we can _not_ fall in love."

"I know, Miss."

"It's _Alex_ \- "

"Do you want to know why I still keep calling you 'Miss'..."

"Why?"

"To keep it purely sex, in my mind. It helps me to create a sort of fantasy, making this less _real_ and therefore safer."

"Safer?"

"On our hearts, Alex."

She bites her lip as his words sink in.

"If I keep calling you 'Alex' you become more real to me. I already know so much about you that makes it harder to distance myself- "

"There's a lot you _don't_ know, Matthew- "

"I know. Of course." He drops his head on a sigh, before raising it again and looking deep into her eyes. "You don't want me to fall in love with you. So I'm doing everything I can think of to prevent that, while still being this close to you."

"Oh, Matt," she whimpers, "I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything," he reassures her.

She slides her tiny hands up over his shoulders, linking them around his neck as she raises herself up on her toes to kiss him. She moans softly in satisfaction, toying with the wispy hair at the nape of his neck as he willingly parts his lips to her questing tongue.

"Pizza," he speaks as they part.

"Pardon?" She giggles.

"I think you should order pizza!" He clarifies as he crosses the room, scooping his clothes off the floor.

"For dinner?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah!"

"No," she replies, pulling her jeans back on. "I can't eat pizza, I'll never shake the weight off- "

"Don't be ridiculous," he stops in his tracks and gapes at her, "you're skinny as a thing, you don't need to worry about what you eat."

"I'm not, darling. But thank you." She wraps her shirt around her and begins on the buttons. "I think we could be safe with Chinese, though..." she suggests.

"Fine," he grunts in mock-huff. Winking at her as he pulls his clothes back on.

Half an hour later sees them sharing multiple tubs of aromatic Chinese food, scattered across her kitchen table.

"I should really have cleaned this table instead of asking you to," she ponders as she prods at her rice.

"Oi," Matt huffs indignantly, "I did a great job."

"I'm sure you did, darling, but it would just make me feel better about it had I done it myself." She takes a bite of sweet and sour chicken. "I'll just do it again once you've gone."

Matt smiles smugly and finishes another tub of noodles.

"I should probably get going," he supposes once all the food is gone and everything is cleared away.

"Oh," she nods from her place by the sink as she dries her hands, "yes, I guess you should."

“Do you want me to go?” he asks, stepping closer to her.

“No,” her voice is small and she doesn’t look up at him.

“Why not?” he continues.

She bites her bottom lip, flicking her eyes up to meet his and he strides over to her, lifting her face in his hands before planting his mouth firmly over hers. She whimpers and buries her hands in his floppy mop of hair.

"I really do have to go," he pants as they part.

"I know, sweetie," she breathes. "It's alright."

She guides him to her hallway and leans in for one more sweet kiss before opening the door.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow then," she says nonchalantly as he steps passed her and out into the evening air.

"Yes, Miss," he replies, "and thanks for _everything_ this weekend, I've learned so much!"


	20. Chapter 20

She worries before her art class with Matt on Monday, but she needn't have done. He strolls into class with the other boys, and takes his seat as usual, glancing up at her only momentarily but long enough for her to catch the smile on his mouth and sparkle in his eye. She smiles to herself before turning to the board to write the date and today's assignment.

"Did you have a good weekend, Miss?"

At first she thinks it's Matt, being audacious, but as she turns to answer the question she realises it's the boy beside him. She briefly panics as she wonders if Matt had told them about their weekend together, but one look at his suddenly pale face assures her had not.

"It was fine, thank you for asking. Nothing to write home about."

She continues with the lesson and Matt, as always, stays behind a moment longer at the end of class.

"Nothing to write home about?" He asks flirtatiously as he passes her desk on his way out.

"Well," she surmises, "I'm not sure I'd actually write home about what _we_ got up to anyway."

"Good point," he chuckles.

"Thank you for not saying anything," she sobers.

"You know I wouldn't."

She goes quiet, busily tidying things away around the classroom, putting space between them. It's not safe to be close after what they've done.

"My play is next week, Miss," he brightens, breaking the silence. "You will come and see it, won't you?"

"Of course, darling," she sashays back over to him, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Thanks for helping me with my lines- "

"I'm not sure how much help I was," she giggles, running a soothing hand down his arm.

He catches her hand as it reaches his, pulling her in close to him.

" _Matt_ ," she warns.

"No one is here," he replies, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers before leaning in for a fleeting kiss to her lips. "See you after school tomorrow then, Miss."

"Tomorrow?" she queries.

"Art club?" He reminds her as he reaches the door.

"Oh," she blushes, "yes, of course. See you then, darling."

She curses herself as he leaves, he has such an effect on her. There's him trying his damnedest not to fall for her and she has nothing to catch her as she very much falls for him.

~

The next day after art club he stays behind and surveys his painting. The painting of her. Miss Alex Kingston. The painting they worked on the first day at her house. That excruciating day when she tried so hard not to touch him, despite the way he looked at her and the way he kissed her. She shouldn't have given in. She owes him for their bet and she'd almost forgotten.

"When would you like your payment," she hums as she comes up behind him, looking over his shoulder at his stunning portrait of her.

"Payment?" He glances back at her, adorably confused.

"You won the bet, sweetie," she gently reminds him.

"So I did!" He beams, slowly standing and turning to face her.

"So, when would you like it and how much was it?"

"How about I take it now," he boldly rests his hands on her hips, "and it doesn't have to be in pounds."

" _Matthew_ ," her hands fly to his immediately as she hurriedly glances around her. There's no one there but them. She knows that. But she can't shake the feeling that everyone can read it on her face. What she did. What _they_ did.

He drops his head to her shoulder, tasting her skin and nibbling his way up her delicious throat. She feebly attempts to push him away, knowing they shouldn't be doing this, but she feels those butterflies stir low in her abdomen as her knees grow weak and she bites her lip. _What has he done to her_?

"I can't get enough of you," he whispers by her ear before crushing his lips to hers.

She let's herself get lost in the feel of him. It's like he is everywhere at once, surrounding her with his embrace and drawing her into him with his kiss. His warm hands slide up her back and press comfortingly against her skin, keeping her close. She widens her stance a little as he steps a leg between hers, sighing at the contact. One hand slips into her hair as the other falls to her backside and she smiles despite herself. A quick squeeze and he moves on, his hands roaming her body and she taking in every little touch like a woman starved; until his fingers brush lightly over her breast.

She gasps, sucking in air as they part.

"Matthew, _stop_ ," she slows his movements and grasps his wandering hands in hers.

"Sorry, Miss," he almost chuckles, "don't know what came over me."

" _I_ do." She states, raising an eyebrow. "We can't get carried away here, darling," she admonishes. "Save that for the weekend," she suggests with a wink, "It's only- "

" _Four_ days away!"

"Well, more like three now- "

"Anyway I can't do anything this weekend, Miss," he sighs despondently, "I have rehearsals."

"Ah yes," she tries to hide her disappointment.

"But I'll see you at the performance on Monday?" He queries hopefully.

"Of _course_ you will, sweetie," she brushes his fringe from his face fondly.

"'Til Friday, then, Miss," he grins as he collects his bag.

"'Til Friday."

~

Friday feels like an age away. Then it suddenly comes and then goes. Matt has to dash off to rehearsals straight after their lesson and she curses herself as she mourns his company.

The weekend is just as bad.

Passing slowly.

Nothing to distract her.

She thinks only of him.

Of his lips on hers, his hands exploring her body and making her _feel_. The dedication in his painting of her. The admiration in his eyes. The sound of his voice.

What has he done to her...

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are wonderful and comments even better! :) x


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